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Clown  :      "  Come  away,  come  away,  death  " 

Twelfth  Night  Acf  II  Scene 


Copyright,    190 1 

By 

THE   UNIVERSITY    SOCIETY 


COLLEGE 
LIBRARY 


TWELFTH    NIGHT;      /\-^ 
Or,  WHAT   YOU   WILL     ,^      , 

Preface. 


The  First  Edition.  Tn'clfth  Night ;  or,  What  You 
Will,  was  first  printed  in  the  First  Folio,  where  it  occu- 
pies pages  255-275  in  the  division  of  Comedies.  There  is 
no  record  of  any  earHer  edition.  The  text  is  singularly 
free  from  misprints  and  corruptions.  The  list  of  '  Dra- 
matis Personae  '  was  first  given  by  Rowe,  as  in  the  case  of 
many  of  the  plays. 

The  Date  of  Composition.  John  Manningham,  a 
member  of  the  ]\Iiddle  Temple  from  January  i6oi(-2) 
to  April,  1603,  entered  in  his  Diary,  preserved  in  the  Brit- 
ish Museum  (MS.  Harleian  5353),"^  the  following  state- 
ment : — 

''  Feb.  2,  i6oi(-2). — At  our  feast,  we  had  a  play  called 
Twelve  Night,  or  What  You  Will.  Much  like  the  Com- 
edy of  Errors,  or  Menechmi  in  Plautus ;  but  most  like  and 
near  to  that  in  Italian  called  Inganni.  A  good  practise 
in  it  to  make  the  steward  believe  his  lady  widowe  was  in 
love  with  him,  by  counterfeiting  as  from  his  lady  in  gen- 
eral terms,  telling  him  what  she  liked  best  in  him,  and 
prescribing  his  gesture  in  smiling,  his  apparel,  etc.,  and 
then  when  he  came  to  practise,  making  him  believe  they 
took  him  to  be  mad,"  etc.  Seeing  that  Tiuelfth  Night  is 
not  mentioned  by  Meres  in  1598,  and  as  the  play  contains 
fragments  of  the  song  '  Fareivell,  dear  heart,  since  I  must 

*  Cp.  The  Diary   of  John   Manningham,   ed.   by   John   Bruce 
{Camden  Society,  1869). 


Preface  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

needs  be  gone;  from  the  Book  of  Ayres,  by  Robert  Jones, 
first  published  in  1601,  the  date  of  composition  may  with 
some  certainty  be  assigned  to  1601-2. 

Title  of  the  Play.  According  to  HalHwell-PhiUipps, 
Twelfth  Night  was  one  of  four  plays  acted  by  Shake- 
speare's Company,  '  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  servants,'  be- 
fore the  Court  at  Whitehall  during  the  Christmas  of 
1601-2 :  possibly  it  owed  its  name  to  the  circumstance  that 
it  was  first  acted  as  the  Twelfth-Night  performance  on 
that  occasion.  Others  hold  that  the  name  of  the  play  was 
suggested  by  '  its  embodiment  of  the  spirit  of  the 
Twelfth-Night  sports  and  revels — a  time  devoted  to  fes- 
tivity and  merriment.'  Its  second  name,  '  Or  What  You 
Will/  was  perhaps  given  in  something  of  the  same  spirit 
as  'As  You  Like  It';  it  probably  implies  that  the  first 
title  has  no  very  special  meaning.  It  has  been  suggested 
that  the  name  expresses  Shakespeare's  indifference  to  his 
own  production — that  it  was  a  sort  of  farewell  to  Comedy ; 
in  his  subsequent  plays  the  tragic  element  was  to  pre- 
dominate. This  far-fetched  subtle  view  of  the  matter 
has  certainly  little  to  commend  it.^^^ 

The  Sources  of  the  Plot,  (i.)  There  are  at  least  two 
Italian  plays  called  Gl'Inganni  (The  Cheats),  to  which 
Manningham  may  have  referred  in  his  entry  as  contain- 
ing incidents  resembling  those  of  Tzvelfth  Night ;  one  of 
these  plays,  by  Nicolo  Secchi,  was  printed  in  1562;  an- 
other by  Curzio  Gonzalo,  was  first  published  in  1592.  In 
the  latter  play  the  sister,  who  dresses  as  a  man,  and  is 
mistaken  for  her  brother,  gives  herself  the  name  of  Ce- 
sare,  and  it  seems  likely  that  we  have  here  the  source  of 
Shakespeare's  '  Cesario.'  (ii.)  A  third  play,  however,  en- 
titled Gl'Ingannati  (Venice,  1537),  translated  by  Pea- 
cock in  1862,  bears  a  much  stronger  resemblance  to 
Tzvelfth  Night;  in  its  poetical  induction,  //  Sacrificio,  oc- 

*  Marston  took  the  name  What  Yoii  Will  for  a  pla}'  of  his  own 
in  1607. 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Preface 

curs  the  name  '  Malevolti,'  which  is  at  least  suggestive  of 
the  name  '  ]\IalvoHo.'  (iii.)  The  ultimate  source  of  the 
story  is  undoubtedly  Bandello's  Novelle  (II.  36),  whence 
it  passed  into  Belief orest's  Histoires  Tragiques  (Vol.  IV. 
Hist,  vii.)  ;  an  English  version  of  the  story — probably 
Shakespeare's  original  for  the  general  framework  of  his 
Comedy — found  a  place  in  Barnaby  Rich's  Farezvell  to  the 
Military e  Profession  (1581),  where  it  is  styled  '  The  His- 
tory of  ApoUonius  and  Silla ' ;  Rich,  no  doubt,  derived  it 
from  Cinthio's  Hecatomithi',  Cinthio  in  his  turn  was  in- 
debted to  Bandello.  (Rich's  ApoUonius  and  Silla  is 
printed  in  Hazlitt's  Shakespeare's  Library,  Part  i,  Vol. 

!•) 

For  the  secondary  plot,  the  story  of  '  Malvoglio,  that 
cross-gartered  gull,'  no  source  exists ;  iMalvolio,  Sir  Toby 
Belch,  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek,  Fabian,  Feste,  and  Maria, 
are  wholly  Shakespeare's. 

Backward  Links.  Tzuelfth  Night,  probably  the  last 
of  the  joyous  comedies,  holding  a  middle  place  between 
As  You  Like  It  and  All's  Well,  suggests  noteworthy 
points  of  contact  with  earlier  plays  : — e.g.  ( i )  the  dis- 
guised Viola  may  well  be  compared  with  the  disguised 
Julia  in  The  Tzco  Gentlemen  ;  (2)  the  story  of  the  wreck 
recalls  the  similar  episode  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors;  (3) 
the  whole  play  is  in  fact  a  *  Comedy  of  Errors  '  arising 
from  mistaken  identity;  (4)  the  sentiment  of  music 
breathes  throughout,  as  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice, 

'  like    the   sweet   sound 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank   of  violets, 
Stealing  and  giving  odour'; 

(5)  alike,  too,  in  both  these  plays  the  faithful  friend  is 
named  Antonio;  (6)  in  Viola's  confession  of  her  secret 
love  (II.  iv.  113-121)  we  have  a  fuller  chord  of  the  note 
struck  in  Love's  Labour  's  Lost  (V.  ii.  14-18)  ;  (7)  finally, 
Sii  Andre  is  a  sort  of  elder  brother  of  Cousin  Slender ; 
and  Sir  Toby  Belch  a  near  kinsman  of  Sir  John  Falstaff. 

3 


Preface  TWELFTH  NIGHT 

Duration  of  Action.    The  Action  of  Tn'clfth  Night  oc-* 
cupies  three  days,  with  an  interval  of  three  days  between 
the  first''an3~second  days  : — 

Day  I,  Act  I.  i.  iii.  Interval.  Day  2,  Act  I.  iv.  and  v. ; 
Act  11.  i.  iii.  Day  3,  Act  II.  iv.  and  v. ;  Acts  III.,  IV., 
and  V. 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Critical  Comments. 
I. 

Argument. 

L  Sebastian  and  Viola,  twins,  are  separated  by  ship- 
wreck and  each  believes  the  other  lost.  Viola  is  cast 
ashore  on  the  coast  of  lUyria.  She  thereupon  dons  male 
attire  and  obtains  service  as  page  with  the  Duke  Orsino, 
who  has  been  vainly  suing  for  the  hand  of  Olivia,  a  native 
lady.  The  Duke  is  pleased  with  the  appearance  of  his 
new  page  and  sends  Viola  to  pay  court  for  him  to  Olivia, 
which  she  does  with  so  much  gracefulness  and  eloquence 
that  the  lady  becomes  enamoured  of  the  supposed  youth 
instead  of  the  master. 

n.  Olivia  sends  favours  and  messages  to  Viola  in 
which,  naturally,  the  latter  takes  no  interest.  Viola,  in 
turn,  has  conceived  a  passion  for  the  Duke,  which  she 
is  compelled  to  hide. 

Olivia's  steward,  Malvolio,  is  so  priggish  and  conceited 
that  others  of  her  household  contrive  a  practical  joke 
against  him,  sending  him  an  anonymous  love-letter 
which  he  is  given  to  believe  is  from  Olivia  herself. 

in.  Malvolio  follows  instructions  contained  in  the  let- 
ter, and  behaves  so  ridiculously  that  his  mistress  believes 
him  demented.  Aleanwhile  Olivia's  love  for  Viola  be- 
comes so  intense  that  she  sues  openly  to  the  fictitious 
page,  much  to  the  latter's  distress.  Sir  Andrew  Ague- 
cheek,  a  foolish  suitor  of  Olivia's,  is  displeased  at  the 
favours  shown  the  page,  and  in  a  spirit  of  bravado  chal- 
lenges Viola.  Though  both  are  eager  to  avoid  the  con- 
flict, it  is  only  averted  by  the  arrival  of  officers. 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

IV.  Sebastian,  Viola's  brother,  who  was  also  cast  up 
by  the  sea,  comes  to  Illyria.  He  looks  so  much  like  his 
sister — especially  since  she  is  in  men's  garments — that 
Sir  Andrew  mistakes  him  for  the  page  and  renews  the 
fight.  This  time  he  does  not  encounter  a  woman's 
shrinking  spirit  or  weak  arm,  and  he  is  soundly  bela- 
boured. Soon  after,  Olivia  also  meets  Sebastian,  sup- 
poses him  to  be  Viola  and  reiterates  her  devotion.  The 
delighted  Sebastian  returns  love  for  love  and  they  are  se- 
cretly espoused  before  a  priest. 

V.  Olivia  encounters  Viola  in  company  with  the  Duke 
and  greets  her  by  the  title  of  husband.  The  bewildered 
page  disavows  the  title,  but  the  priest  who  performed  the 
ceremony  vouches  for  it.  The  Duke  is  much  disgruntled 
that  his  favourite  page  should  so  abuse  his  confidence. 
Viola  is  meeting  with  general  disfavour,  when  her 
brother  Sebastian  arrives  on  the  scene,  and  the  two  who 
had  thought  each  other  dead  are  reunited.  Olivia  dis- 
covers that  she  has  espoused  the  brother,  after  having 
wooed  the  sister,  while  the  Duke  finds  that  his  attachment 
for  his  page  becomes  love  when  Viola  resumes  her  fem- 
inine attire. 

The  secret  of  Malvolio's  dementia  is  revealed,  and  he 
is  released  from  the  confinement  in  which  he  has  been 
held. 

McSpadden  :  Shakespearian  Synopses. 

IL 

Viola. 

As  the  innate  dignity  of  Perdita  pierces  through  her 
rustic  disguise,  so  the  exquisite  refinement  of  Viola  tri- 
umphs over  her  mascuHne  attife!  VioTa  is,  perhaps,  in  a 
degree  less  "elevated  and  ideal  than  Perdita,  but  with  a 
touch  of  sentiment  more  profound  and  heart-stirring; 
she  is  ''  deep-learned  in  the  lore  of  love  " — at  least  theo- 

6 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

retically — and  speaks  as  masterly  on  the  subject  as  Per- 
dita  does  of  flowers. 

The  situation  and  the  character  of  Viola  have  been 
censured  for  their  want  of  consistency  and  probability; 
it  is  therefore  worth  while  to  examine  how  far  this  criti- 
cism is  true.  As  for  her  situation  in  the  drama  (of  w^iich 
she  is  properly  the  heroine  )  it  is  shortly  this  :  She  is  ship- 
wrecked on  the  coast  of  Illyria:  she  is  alone  and  without 
protection  in  a  strange  country.  She  wishes  to  enter 
into  the  service  of  the  Countess  Olivia;  but  she  is  as- 
sured that  this  is  impossible;  ''  for  the  lady,  having  re- 
cently lost  an  only  and  beloved  brother,  has  abjured  the 
sight  of  men,  has  shut  herself  up  in  her  palace,  and  will 
admit  no  kind  of  suit."  In  this  perplexity  Viola  remem- 
bers to  have  heard  her  father  speak  with  praise  and 
admiration  of  Orsino,  the  Duke  of  the  country ;  and 
having  ascertained  that  he  is  not  married,  and  that  there- 
fore his  court  is  not  a  proper  asylum  for  her  in  her 
feminine  character,  she  attires  herself  in  the  disguise  of 
a  page,  as  the  best  protection  against  uncivil  comments, 
till  she  can  gain  some  tidings  of  her  brother. 

If  we  carry  our  thoughts  back  to  a  romantic  and  chiv- 
alrous age,  there  is  surely  sufftcient  probability  here  for 
all  the  purposes  of  poetry.  To  pursue  the  thread  of 
Viola's  destiny; — she  is  engaged  in  the  service  of  the 
Duke,  whom  she  finds  "  fancy-sick  "  for  the  love  of 
Olivia.  We  are  left  to  infer  (for  so  it  is  hinted  in  the  first 
scene)  that  this  Duke — who,  with  his  accomplishments 
and  his  personal  attractions,  his  taste  for  music,  his 
chivalrous  tenderness,  and  his  unrequited  love,  is  really 
a  very  fascinating  and  poetical  personage,  though  a  little 
passionate  and  fantastic — had  already  made  some  im- 
pression on  Viola's  imagination;  and,  when  she  comes 
to  play  the  confidante,  and  to  be  loaded  with  favours  and 
kindness  in  her  assumed  character,  that  she  should  be 
touched  by  a  passion  made  up  of  pity,  admiration,  grati- 
tude, and  tenderness,  does  not,  I  think,  in  any  way  de- 

7 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

tract  from  the  genuine  sweetness  and  delicacy  of  her 
character,  for  "  she  never  told  her  loz'e.'^ 

Now  all  this,  as  the  critic  wisely  observes,  may  not 
present  a  very  just  picture  of  life;  and  it  may  also  fail  to 
impart  any  moral  lesson  for  the  especial  profit  of  well- 
bred  young  ladies :  but  is  it  not  in  truth  and  in  nature  ? 
Did  it  ever  fail  to  charm  or  to  interest,  to  seize  on  the 
coldest  fancy,  to  touch  the  most  insensible  heart? 

Viola  then  is  the  chosen  favourite  of  the  enamoured 
Duke,  and  becomes  his  messenger  to  Olivia,  and  the  in- 
terpreter of  his  sufferings  to  that  inaccessible  beauty.  In 
her  character  of  a  youthful  page,  she  attracts  the  favour 
of  Olivia,  and  excites  the  jealousy  of  her  lord.  The  situ- 
ation is  critical  and  delicate ;  but  how  exquisitely  is  the 
character  of  Viola  fitted  to  her  part,  carrying  her  through 
the  ordeal  with  all  the  inward  and  spiritual  grace  of 
modesty!  AVhat  beautiful  propriety  in  the  distinction 
drawn  between  Rosalind  and  Viola !  The  wild  sweetness, 
the  frolic  humour  which  sports  free  and  unblamed  amid 
the  shades  of  Ardennes,  would  ill  become  Viola,  w^hose 
playfulness  is  assumed  as  part  of  her  disguise  as  a  court- 
page,  and  is  guarded  by  the  strictest  delicacy.  She  has 
not,  like  Rosalind,  a  saucy  enjoyment  in  her  own  incog- 
nito; her  disguise  does  not  sit  so  easily  upon  her;  her 
heart  does  not  beat  freely  under  it.  As  in  the  old  ballad, 
where  "  Sweet  William  "  is  detected  weeping  in  secret 
over  her  "  man's  array,"  so  in  Viola,  a  sweet  conscious- 
ness of  her  feminine  nature  is  forever  breaking  through 
her  masquerade : — 

"  And  on  her  cheek  is  ready  with  a  blush 
Modest  as  morning,  when  she  coldly  eyes 
The  youthful  Phoebus." 

.  .  .  Th€  feminirie  co,w-ayd4-ee~of--Viola,  which  will 
not  allow  her  even  to  alFect  a  courage  becoming  her  attire 
— her  horror  at  the  idea  of  drawing  a  sword,  is  very 
natural  and  characteristic  ;  and  produces  a  most  humorous 
effect,  even  at  the  very  moment  it  charms  and  interests  us. 

8 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

Contrasted  with  the  deep,  silent,  patient  iove  of  Viola 
for  the  Duke,  we  have  the  lady-like  wilfulness  of  Olivia ; 
and  her  sudden  passion,  or  rather  fancy,  for  the  disguised 
page,  takes  so  beautiful  a  colouring  of  poetry  and  senti- 
ment, that  we  do  not  think  her  forward.  Olivia  is  like  a 
princess  of  romance,  and  has  all  the  privileges  of  one; 
she  is,  hke  Portia,  high-born  and  high-bred,  mistress  over 
her  servants — but  not  like  Portia,  "  queen  o'er  herself." 
She  has  never  in  her  life  been  opposed ;  the  first  contra- 
diction, therefore,  rouses  all  the  woman  in  her,  and  turns 
a  caprice  into  a  headlong  passion ;  yet  she  apologizes  for 
herself : — 

"  I  have  said  too  much  unto  a  heart  of  stone, 
And  laid  mine  honour  too  unchary  out ; 
There  's  something  in  me  that  reproves  my  fault ; 
But  such  a  headstrong  potent  fault  it  is, 
That  it  but  mocks  reproof !  " 

And  in  the  midst  of  her  self-abandonment  never  allows 
us  to  contemn,  even  while  we  pity  her : — 

"  What  shall  you  ask  of  me  that  I  '11  deny, 
That  honour,  sav'd  may  upon  asking  give?  " 

The  distance  of  rank  which  separates  the  Countess 
from  the  youthful  page — the  real  sex  of  Viola — the  dig- 
nified elegance  of  Olivia's  deportment,  except  where  pas- 
sion gets  the  better  of  her  pride — her  consistent  coldness 
towards  the  Duke — the  description  of  that  "  smooth,  dis- 
creet, and  stable  bearing  "  with  which  she  rules  her  house- 
hold— her  generous  care  for  her  steward  Malvolio,  in  the 
midst  of  her  own  distress — all  these  circumstances  raise 
Olivia  in  our  fancy,  and  render  her  caprice  for  the  page 
a  source  of  amusement  and  interest,  not  a  subject  of  re- 
proach. Twelfth  Niglit  is  a  genuine  comedy — a  perpetual 
spring  of  the  gayest  and  the  sweetest  fancies.  In  artificial 
society  men  and  women  are  divided  into  castes  and  classes, 
and  it  is  rarely  that  extremes  in  character  or  manners  can 
approximate.  To  blend  into  one  harmonious  picture  the 
utmost  grace  and  refinement  of  sentiment  and  the  broad- 

9 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

est  effects  of  humour,  the  most  poignant  wit  and  the  most 
indulgent  benignity,  in  short,  to  bring  before  us  in  the 
same  scene  Viola  and  Olivia,  with  Malvolio  and  Sir  Toby, 
belonged  only  to  Nature  and  to  Shakspeare. 

Mrs.  Jameson  :   Characteristics  of  Women. 

III. 

Malvolio. 

Malvolio,  the  steward  of  Olivia's  household,  is  prized 
by  that  lady  for  his  grave  and  punctilious  disposition. 
He  discharges  his  office  carefully  and  in  a  tone  of  some 
superiority,  for  his  mind  is  above  his  estate.  At  some 
time  in  his  life  he  has  read  cultivated  books,  knows  the 
theory  of  Pythagoras  concerning  the  transmigration  of 
the  soul,  but  thinks  more  nobly  of  the  soul  and  no  way 
approves  that  opinion.  His  gentility,  though  a  little 
rusted  and  obsolete,  is  like  a  Sunday  suit  which  nobody 
thinks  of  rallying.  He  wears  it  well,  and  his  mistress 
cannot  afford  to  treat  him  exactly  as  a  servant;  in  fact, 
she  has  occasionally  dropped  good-natured  phrases 
which  he  has  interpreted  into  a  special  partiality;  for 
Quixotic  conceits  can  riot  about  inside  of  his  stiff  de- 
meanor. This  proneness  to  fantasy  increases  the  touchi- 
ness of  a  man  of  reserve.  He  can  never  take  a  joke,  and 
his  cHmate  is  too  inclement  to  shelter  humor.  Souls 
must  be  at  blood-heat,  and  brains  must  expand  with  it 
like  a  blossom,  before  humor  will  fructify.  He  wonders 
how  Olivia  can  tolerate  the  clown.  ''  I  protest,"  he  says, 
"  I  take  these  wise  men,  that  crow  so  at  these  set  kind  of 
fools,  to  be  no  better  than  the  fools'  zanies."  Olivia 
hits  the  difficulty  when  she  replies,  "  Oh,  you  are  sick  of 
self-love,  and  taste  with  a  distempered  appetite."  Per- 
haps he  thinks  nobly  of  the  soul  because  he  so  pro- 
foundly respects  his  own,  and  carries  it  upon  stilts  over 
the  heads  of  the  servants  and  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  Andrew. 

Imagine  this  saturnine  and  self-involved  man  obliged 

zo 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

to  consort  daily  with  Sir  Toby,  who  brings  his  hand  to 
the  buttery-bar  before  breakfast,  and  who  hates  going 
to  bed  *'  as  an  unfilled  can,"  unless  no  more  drink  is 
forthcoming;  an  irascible  fellow,  too,  and  all  the  more 
tindery  because  continually  dry.  He  has  Sir  Andrew 
Aguecheek  for  a  boon  companion,  who  says  of  himself 
that  sometimes  he  has  no  more  wit  than  a  Christian,  or 
than  an  ordinary  man.     .     .     . 

But  the  play  does  not  let  Malvolio  drop  softly  on 
his  feet.  There  is  a  faint  grudge  provoked  by  the  ill- 
tempered  quality  of  his  conceit,  and  Shakspeare  indicates 
this  trait  of  our  nature.  The  Clown,  who  remembers 
how  the  steward  used  to  twit  Olivia's  contentment  at  his 
sallies,  and  to  deprecate  it  in  a  lofty  way,  now  mimics 
his  phrases  and  manner  to  sting  him  with  a  last  flutter- 
ing dart.  Malvolio's  pride  is  already  too  deeply  wounded, 
for  he  has  indeed  been  "  notoriously  abused."  There 
is  no  relenting  in  such  a  man  on  account  of  the  fun,  for 
that  is  a  crime  in  the  eyes  of  a  Puritan,  to  be  punished 
for  God's  sake.  His  temper  acquires  sombreness  from 
his  belief  that  total  depravity  is  a  good  doctrine  if  you 
can  only  live  up  to  it.  But  when  this  crime  of  fun  is 
perpetrated  against  the  anointed  self-esteem  of  the  Puri- 
tan himself,  it  is  plain  he  will  be  revenged  on  the  whole 
pack  of  them  unless  they  proceed  to  make  a  sop  of  defer- 
ence to  touch  his  hurt  with,  and  a  pipe  out  of  his  own 
egotism  for  sounding  a  truce. 

Shakspeare  delighted  to  mark  the  transition  of  a  vir- 
tue to  a  vice;  that  elusive  moment,  as  of  a  point  of  pas- 
sage from  one  species  to  another,  discovered  and  put 
into  a  flash  from  the  light  of  humor.  Malvolio's  grave 
and  self-respecting  temperament  is  an  excellence.  No 
decent  man  thinks  meanly  of  himself,  and  the  indecent 
ones  cannot  afford  the  disparagement.  The  pretence  of 
it  is  a  warning  to  us  to  expect  mischief,  a  notice  put  up, 
"  This  is  a  private  way  ;   dangerous  passing." 

Weiss  :   Wit,  Humor,  and  Shakspeare. 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

IV. 
Feste,  the  Clown. 

The  Clown  in  this  play,  who,  I  am  inclined  to  think, 
should  bear  his  name  all  through  by  as  good  a  right  as 
Touchstone,  is  a  remarkable  creation,  and  very  essential 
to  the  knitting  and  coherence  of  the  general  play.  His 
musical  talent  is  most  diversified ;  he  gives  as  readily  and 
with  equal  effect  the  tender  love  song  suited  to  the 
dreamy  and  poetical  being  of  the  Duke,  or  the  noisy 
catch  that  shakes  the  rafters  and  calls  up  Malvolio  at 
midnight.  Thus  cathoHc  in  his  artistic  range,  he  has  a 
not  less  wide  intellectual  scope.  He  plumbs  the  depth 
accurately  of  his  mistress's  exhausted  sorrow,  penetrates 
the  destiny  of  Maria  and  Sir  Toby's  weak  pia  mater, 
holds  up  a  mirror  to  the  opalescent  humours  of  the 
Duke,  and  takes  remarkably  good  care  of  his  own  eco- 
nomical resources,  by  asking  on  every  occasion  when  he 
is  safe  to  obtain — yet  free  from  slyness  withal,  genial  and 
enjoyable,  as  he  is  free  of  speech.  Still,  apart  from  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  loyalty  to  his  mistress,  he  knows  the  world 
too  well — this  it  is  to  be  wise  and  to  suffer  for  it,  to  re- 
main very  long  in  society  of  the  same  tone,  or  to  feel 
much  sympathy  for  anybody,  or  consequently  to  get 
much  in  return.  With  no  great  interest  in  the  practical 
jests  and  bear-baitings  that  are  rife  around  him,  he  does 
not  refuse,  however,  to  gratify  his  pique  of  profession, 
by  lending  a  helping  hand  in  duping  the  churlish  steward. 

Lloyd:  Critical  Essays  on  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare. 


Of  all  Shakspeare's  clowns,  he  is  the  best  endowed 
with  a  many-sided  mirth,  as  indeed  he  should  be  to  pass 
lightly  through  the  mingled  romance  and  roystering  of  the 
play  and  favor  all  its  moods.  The  sentiment  of  the  Duke 
is  as  inebriated  as  the  revelling  which  Malvolio  rebukes. 
Olivia's  protracted  grief  for  her  brother  is  carefully  cos- 

12 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

seted  by  her,  as  if  on  purpose  to  give  the  Clown  an 
opportunity. 

Clo.  Good  madonna,  why  mournest  thou? 
Oliv.  Good  fool,  for  my  brother's  death. 
Clo.  I  think  his  soul  is  in  hell,  madonna. 
Oliv.  I  know  his  soul  is  in  heaven,  fool. 

Clo.  The  more  fool,  madonna,  to  mourn  for  your  brother's  soul 
being  in  heaven. — Take  away  the  fool,  gentlemen. 

All  the  characters,  noble  and  common,  have  some 
weakness  which  he  intuitively  rallies.  The  charm  of  the 
comedy  lies  in  these  unsubstantial  moods  of  the  chief 
personages  which  consort  with  the  more  substantial 
whims  and  appetites  of  the  others.  The  only  sobriety 
jsvested  in  tke.  Clo^^;  ^^^  ^^^  l^^s  fr?a[^a  hoA7^  r]  S'^'^- 
sisteiiMdisposition.  So  the  lovely  poetry  of  the  mock 
mourners  alternates  with  the  tipsy  prose  of  the  genuine 
fleshly  fellows.  Their  hearty  caterwauling  penetrates  to 
Olivia's  fond  seclusion,  and  breaks  up  her  brooding. 
Feste  is  everywhere  at  home.  When  he  plays  the 
curate's  part,  Malvolio  beseechingly  cries,  "  Sir  Topas, 
Sir  Topas !  "  The  Clown  says  aside,  "  Nay,  I  am  for  all 
waters  " — that  is,  for  topaz,  diamond,  gems  of  the  first 
water,  all  many-colored  facets,  I'll  reflect.  And  he  does 
so  in  this  conversation  which  he  holds  with  Malvolio, 
who  says,  "  I  am  no  more  mad  than  you  are ;  make  the 
trial  of  it  in  any  constant  question."  Then  Feste  airs  his 
learning :  "  What  is  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  concern- 
ing wild-fowl  ?  "  and  makes  his  question  lead  up  to  a 
sharp  retort,  when  Malvolio  answers,  ''  That  the  soul  of 
our  grandam  might  haply  inhabit  a  bird  "  ;  for  then  Feste 
says,  '*  Thou  shalt  hold  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  ere  I 
will  allow  of  thy  wits,  and  fear  to  kill  a  woodcock  lest  thou 
dispossess  the  soul  of  thy  grandam."  For  it  was  a 
country  notion  that  the  woodcock  was  the  foolishest  of 
birds ;  so  he  translates  Malvolio's  grandam  into  one,  and 
leaves  him  to  inherit  her  absence  of  wits.  And  Malvolio 
was  so  devoured  by  mortification  and  anxiety  that  he 

13 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

does  not  notice  when  Feste  cannot  restrain  his  burlesqu- 
ing knack,  but  makes  the  pretended  curate  say  that 
Malvoho's  cell  ''  hath  bay-windows,  transparent  as  barri- 
cadoes,  and  the  clearstores  toward  the  south-north  are 
as  lustrous  as  ebony." 

Weiss  :  Wit^  Humor,  and  Shakspeare. 


The  Duke. 

The  Duke  is  treated  without  any  disposition  to  ac- 
centuate the  ludicrous  aspect  of  his  character  and  for- 
tunes. He  is  among  the  figures  which  suggest  that 
Shakespeare  was  attracted  by  the  methods  of  Jonson. 
Luxurious  emotions  are  the  elements  in  which  he  lives; 
they  run  to  seed  in  him  like  a  ''  Humour."  His  opening 
words,  "  If  music  be  the  food  of  love,  play  on,"  incisively 
denote  him.  His  love  is  not  a  master  who  subdues  all  his 
faculties  and  energies  to  its  service,  but  an  exquisite 
companion  whom  he  dotes  on  and  dallies  with.  He  has 
no  doubt  a  choice  and  graceful  mind,  and  this  saves  him 
from  ridicule,  though  hardly  from  contempt;  but  it 
serves  rather  to  extract  and  formulate  the  finest  essence 
of  each  passing  moment  than  to  draw  obvious  practical 
conclusions  from  facts.  Hence  the  Clown — ^no  inapt  ob- 
server— admirably  prescribes  for  him  a  doublet  of 
changeable  tafifeta,  "  for  thy  mind  is  a  very  opal  " ;  his 
speech  flushes  with  the  warmth  and  brilliance  of  each 
passing  mood.  He  is  sick  of  self-love,  and  his  persistent 
courtship  of  Olivia  rests  upon  a  fatuous  faith  in  his  own 
prevailing  fascination;  but  his  egoism  is  amiable  and 
effusive,  and  he  enters  easily  into  tender  relations  with 
his  subordinates.  Apolonius,  in  Rich's  tale,  has  no  kind- 
ness for  his  serving-man;  but  the  charm  of  Cesario  has 
conquered  the  sensitive  Duke  long  before  the  climax, 
and  the  discovery  of  his  sex  transforms  it  without  effort 
into  love.    This  change  might  seem  to  involve  a  modifi- 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

cation  of  the  climax  of  Rich's  story,  where  Apolonius 
vows  his  man's  death  to  avenge  his  lady's  honour  (Haz- 
litt's  Shakespeare's  Library,  i.  408).  In  Shakespeare's 
hands,  however,  the  incident  adds  a  piquant  trait  to  the 
Duke's  character.  His  tenderness  for  the  lad  he  dooms 
converts  the  act  into  a  sacrifice,  and  invests  it  with  a 
tragic  significance  full  of  relish  to  his  artistic  sense. 

Herford  :  The  Everslcy  Shakespeare. 

VL 
Olivia. 

The  Countess  Olivia  forms  a  pendant  to  the  Duke ;  she, 
like  him,  is  full  of  yearning  melancholy.  With  an  osten- 
tatious exaggeration  of  sisterly  love,  she  has  vowed  to 
pass  seven  whole  years  veiled  like  a  nun,  consecrating  her 
whole  life  to  sorrow  for  her  dead  brother.  Yet  we  find 
in  her  speeches  no  trace  of  this  devouring  sorrow;  she 
jests  with  her  household,  and  rules  it  ably  and  well,  until, 
at  the  first  sight  of  the  disguised  Viola,  she  flames  out 
into  passion,  and,  careless  of  the  traditional  reserve  of 
her  sex,  takes  the  most  daring  steps  to  win  the  supposed 
youth.  She  is  conceived  as  an  unbalanced  character, 
who  passes  at  a  bound  from  exaggerated  hatred  for  all 
worldly  things  to  total  forgetfulness  of  her  never-to-be- 
forgotten  sorrow.  Yet  she  is  not  comic  like  Phebe ;  for 
Shakespeare  has  indicated  that  it  is  the  Sebastian  type, 
foreshadowed  in  the  disguised  Viola,  which  is  irresistible 
to  her ;  and  Sebastian,  we  see,  at  once  requites  the  love 
which  his  sister  had  to  reject.  Her  utterance  of  her 
passion,  moreover,  is  always  poetically  beautiful. 

Yet  while  she  is  sighing  in  vain  for  Viola,  she  neces- 
sarily appears  as  though  seized  with  a  mild  erotic  mad- 
ness, similar  to  that  of  the  Duke :  and  the  folly  of  each 
is  parodied  in  a  witty  and  delightful  fashion  by  Mal- 
volio's  entirely  ludicrous  love  for  his  mistress,  and  vain 

15 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

confidence  that  she  returns  it.     OHvia  feels  and  says  this 
herself,  where  she  exclaims  (iii.  4)  — 

"  Go  call  him  hither. — I  am  as  mad  as  he 
If  sad  and  merry  madness  equal  be." 

Brandes:  William  Shakespeare, 

VII. 

Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Sir  Andrew  AguecheeK. 

Of  Sir  Toby  himself — that  most  whimsical,  madcap, 
Irolicsome  old  toper,  so  full  of  antics  and  fond  of  sprees, 
with  a  plentiful  stock  of  wit  and  an  equal  lack  of  money 
to  keep  it  in  motion — it  is  enough  to  say,  with  one  of  the 
best  of  Shakespearian  critics,  that  ''  he  certainly  comes 
out  of  the  same  associations  where  the  Poet  saw  Falstaff 
hold  his  revels  " ;  and  that  though  "  not  Sir  John,  nor  a 
fainter  sketch  of  him,  yet  he  has  an  odd  sort  of  a  family 
likeness  to  him."  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek,  the  aspiring, 
lackadaisical,  self-satisfied  echo  and  sequel  of  Sir  Toby, 
fitly  serves  the  double  purpose  of  butt  and  foil  to  the 
latter,  at  once  drawing  him  out  and  setting  him  off. 
Ludicrously  proud  of  the  most  petty  childish  irregulari- 
ties, which,  however,  his  natural  fatuity  keeps  him  from 
acting,  and  barely  suffers  him  to  affect,  on  this  point  he 
reminds  us  of  that  impressive  imbecility,  Abraham  Slen- 
der ;  yet  not  in  such  sort  as  to  encroach  at  all  upon  Slen- 
der's  province.  There  can  scarce  be  found  a  richer  piece 
of  diversion  than  Sir  Toby's  practice  in  dandhng  him  out 
of  his  money,  and  paying  him  off  with  the  odd  hope  of 
gaining  Olivia's  hand.  And  the  fimniest  of  it  is,  that 
while  Sir  Toby  thoroughly  understands  him,  he  has  not 
himself  the  shghtest  suspicion  what  he  is,  being  as  con- 
fident of  his  own  wit  as  others  are  of  his  want  of  it. 

Hudson  :  The  Works  of  Shakespeare. 

16 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

VIIL 

The  Characters  Contrasted. 

Viola  is  in  so  far  the  heroine  of  the  piece,  as  the  whole 
play  originates  with  and  is  kept  in  motion  by  her  and  her 
disguise.  And  yet  her  character  is  given  in  light  touches 
and  delicate  colours,  and  is  composed  of  but  a  few  sim- 
ple elements.  It  consists,  so  to  say,  only  in  the  apparent 
contradiction  between  a  tender,  gentle,  sensitive,  longing 
heart,  which,  being  ''  deeply  skilled  in  the  science  of  love," 
retires  in  maidenly  shyness  within  itself,  and  a  bold, 
witty  and  imaginative  mind  that  whispers  to  her  all  kinds 
of  mischievous  ideas,  which  she  involuntarily  follows 
from  her  innate  pleasure  in  romance  and  in  what  is  fan- 
tastic. She  thereby  falls  into  situations  which  cause  her 
anxiety  and  embarrassment,  because,  on  the  other  hand, 
she  has  not  the  courage  or  the  practical  cleverness  pos- 
sessed by  Portia  fin  The  Merchant  of  Venice),  whose 
mind  is  somewhat  akin  to  her  own.  To  solve  harmoni- 
ously this  apparent  contradiction,  which  places  the  two 
elements  of  the  comic — fancy  and  intrigue — in  close 
juxtaposition,  and  to  form  a  true  and  life-like  character 
out  of  these  heterogeneous  elements,  is  a  task  that 
Shakspeare  leaves  to  the  talent  of  the  actors.  In  pieces 
like  this  and  similar  ones,  he  cannot  well  do  otherwise; 
he  has  to  content  himself  with  giving  mere  hints  of  the 
characters,  he  has,  so  to  say,  but  to  touch  the  light  pol- 
len of  the  characterisation;  a  deeper  development  and 
deeper  motives  would  obstruct  and  retard  the  rapid, 
easy,  graceful  movement  of  the  action. 

The  other  characters,  the  musical  and  dreamy  Duke, 
who  suns  himself  in  his  own  love,  and  spends  his  time 
in  brooding  over  his  own  sorrows; — Olivia,  in  her  girl- 
ish self-will,  hard  to  please  yet  so  easy  to  win  over,  so 
serious,  strict,  and  yet  so  graceful,  who  is  so  cold,  so 
shy,  so  virtuously  reserved  before  she  is  in  love,  and  so 
inconsiderate  in  her  desires,  so  devoted  after  her  love  is 

17 


Comments  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

aroused  by  contradiction,  and  has  burst  forth  into  a 
bright  flame; — Antonio,  with  his  fantastic  friendship  for 
Sebastian,  and  Sebastian  with  his  heahhy,  vigorous, 
youthful  nature,  taking  with  one  snatch  that  which  the 
Duke  has  in  vain  endeavoured  to  obtain  by  entreaties, 
lamentations  and  sighs; — the  roguish,  ingenious  Maria, 
and  her  clever  helper's  help  Fabian — all  these  characters 
are  sketched  in  such  fine  outlines,  the  transparent  col- 
ours and  delicate  lights  and  shades  of  which  are  so  har- 
moniously blended  with  one  another  that,  only  in  this 
manner,  and  in  no  other,  could  they  be  the  agents  of 
such  a  light,  airy,  hazy  and  yet  deeply  significant  com- 
position. The  most  carefully  worked  out  contrast  is  that 
between  the  Fool  by  profession  and  the  involuntary 
fools,  Malvolio,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Sir  Toby.  While  the 
latter,  in  their  own  conceit  and  foolishness,  unconsciously 
draw  the  cap  and  bells  over  their  own  ears,  the  former,  in 
his  self-adopted  mental  garb  of  motley  colours,  moves 
with  inimitable  adroitness,  and  pins  the  lappets  of  his  wit 
to  the  back  of  all  the  other  characters.  The  meaning  of 
the  poem  is,  so  to  say,  centred  in  him.  He  alone,  in  full 
consciousness,  contemplates  life  as  a  merry  Twelfth 
Night,  in  which  every  one  has,  in  fact,  only  to  play  his 
allotted  part  to  the  greatest  possible  amusement  of  himself 
and  others. 

Ulrici  :  Shakspeare's  Dramatic  Art. 

IX. 

Charms  of  this  Comedy. 

Of  all  Shakespeare's  comedies,  perhaps  Twelfth  Night 
is  the  most  richly  woven  with  various  hues  of  love,  seri- 
ous and  mock-heroic.  The  amorous  threads  take 
warmer  shifting  colours  from  their  neighbourhood  to 
the  unmitigated  remorseless  merry-making  of  the  har- 
um-scarum old  wag  Sir  Toby  and  his  sparkling  captain 

i8 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Comments 

in  mischief,  the  ''  most  excellent  devil  of  wit,"  Maria. 
Beside  their  loud  conviviality  and  pitiless  fun  the  lan- 
guishing sentiment  of  the  cultivated  love-lorn  Duke 
stands  out  seven  times  refined,  and  goes  with  exquisite 
touch  to  the  innermost  sensibilities. 

MiNTO :   Characteristics  of  English  Poets. 


Still  one  of  the  comedies  of  Shakspere's  bright,  sweet 
time.  True  that  we  have  to  change  Rosalind's  rippling 
laugh  for  the  drunken  catches  and  bibulous  drollery  of 
Sir  Toby  Belch  and  his  comrade,  and  Touchstone  for 
the  Clown ;  but  the  leading  note  of  the  play  is  fun, 
as  if  Shakspere  had  been  able  to  throw  off  all  thought 
of  melancholy  and  had  devised  Malvolio  to  help  his 
friends  "  fleet  the  time  carelessly,"  as  they  did  in  the 
golden  world.  Still  though,  as  ever  in  the  comedies, 
except  The  Merry  Wives,  there  's  the  shadow  of  death 
and  distress  across  the  sunshine.  Olivia's  father  and 
brother  just  dead,  Viola  and  Sebastian  just  rescued  from 
one  death,  Viola  threatened  with  another,  and  Antonio 
held  a  pirate  and  liable  to  death.  And  still  the  lesson  is, 
as  in  As  You  Like  It,  ''Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity"; 
out  of  their  trouble  all  the  lovers  come  into  happiness, 
into  wedlock.  The  play  at  first  sight  is  far  less  striking 
and  interesting  than  Much  Ado  and  As  You  Like  It.  No 
brilliant  Beatrice  or  Benedick  catches  the  eye,  no  sad 
Rosalind  leaping  into  life  and  joyousness  at  the  touch 
of  assured  love. 

The  self-conceited  Malvolio  is  brought  to  the  front, 
the  drunkards  and  Clown  come  next;  none  of  these 
touch  any  heart;  and  it 's  not  till  we  look  past  them  that 
we  feel  the  beauty  of  the  characters  who  stand  in  half- 
light  behind.  Then  we  become  conscious  of  a  quiet 
harmony  of  colour  and  form  that  makes  a  picture  full 
of  charm,  that  grows  on  you  as  you  study  it,  and  be- 
comes one  of  the  possessions  of  your  life. 

Furnivall:  The  Leopold  Shakspere. 

19 


Comments 

This  is  justly  considered  as  one  of  the  most  deHghtful 
of  Shakespear's  comedies.  It  is  full  of  sweetness  and 
pleasantry.  It  is  perhaps  too  good-natured  for  comedy. 
It  has  little  satire,  and  no  spleen.  It  aims  at  the  lu- 
dicrous rather  than  the  ridiculous.  It  makes  us  laugh  at 
the  follies  of  mankind,  not  despise  them,  and  still  less 
bear  any  ill-will  towards  them.  Shakespear's  comic 
genius  resembles  the  bee  rather  in  its  power  of  extract- 
ing sweets  from  weeds  or  poisons  than  in  leaving  a 
sting  behind  it.  He  gives  the  most  amusing  exaggera- 
tion of  the  prevailing  foibles  of  his  characters,  but  in 
a  way  that  they  themselves,  instead  of  being  offended 
at,  would  almost  join  in  to  humour;  he  rather  contrives 
opportunities  for  them  to  show  themselves  off  in  the 
happiest  Hghts,  than  renders  them  contemptible  in  the 
perverse  construction  of  the  wit  or  malice  of  others. 
Hazlitt  :  Characters  of  Shakespear's  Plays. 


MalvoHo,  Sir  Toby  Belch,  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek, 
Maria,  and,  above  all,  Viola,  as  they  live  in  the  comedy 
are  Shakespearian  to  the  heart.  The  framework  of  the 
play  is  essentially  serious,  a  beautiful  vein  of  poetic  feel- 
ing runs  through  it,  and,  intermingled  with  these,  the 
most  unforced  and  uproarious  fun.  In  inventiveness  in 
the  comic  type  and  in  freedom  in  handling  it,  as  well 
as  in  grouping  of  diverse  materials  and  fusing  them  into 
a  harmonious  and  captivating  whole,  this  comedy  was 
never  surpassed  by  the  dramatist.  He  parted  with  the 
muse  of  comedy  at  the  very  moment  when  he  had  mas- 
tered the  art  of  touching  the  weaknesses,  follies,  and 
minor  sins  of  men  with  a  touch  which  was  keen  with 
the  wisdom  of  a  great  knowledge  of  the  world,  and 
gentle  with  the  kindness  of  one  who  loved  his  kind  for 
what  they  had  lost  rather  than  for  what  they  had  won. 
Mabie  :  William  Shakespeare :  Poet,  Dramatist,  and  Man. 


Twelfth  Night; 

or.  What  You  Will. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE. 


[  gentlemen  attending  on  the  Duke. 


:    Orsino,  Duke  of  Illyria. 
Sebastian,  bi'other  to  Viola. 
Antonio,  a  sea  captain,  friend  to  Sebastian. 
A  Sea  Captain,  friend  to  Viola. 
Valentine, 
Curio, 

Sir  Toby  Belch,  uncle  to  Olivia 
Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek. 
Malvolio,  steward  to  Olivia. 

Fabian,  )  serz'ants  to  Olivia 

Feste,  a  clown,  \ 

Olivia. 

Viola. 

Maria,  Olivia  s  woman. 

Lords,  Priests,  Sailors,  Officers,  Musicians,  and  other  Attendants. 

Scene:  A  city  in  Illyria,  and  the  sea  coast  near  it. 


Twelfth   Night; 
Or,  What  You  Will. 


s 


ACT  FIRST. 

Scene  I.  Cu^cx^^^ ^^^uX'Qi^uuuS) 

An  apartment  in  the  Duke  s  palace.  •  ^ 

Enter  Duke,  Curio,  and  other  Lords;  Musicians  attending. '^'^^'^^ 

Duke.  If  music  be  the  food  of  love,  play  on;  y,,^ 

Give  me  excess  of  it,  that,  surfeiting. 

The  appetite  may  sicken,  and  so  die. 

That  strain  again !   it  had  a  dying  fall : 
^2  /  O,  it  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  sound 
v'l  That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 
■^1   Stealing  and  giving  odour!     Enough;  no  more: 

'Tis  not  so  sweet  now  as  it  was  before. 

O  spirit  of  love,  how  quick  and  fresh  art  tHou ! 

That,  notwithstanding  thy  capacity 

Receiveth  as  the  sea,  nought  enters  there, 

Of  what  validity  and  pitch  soe'er. 

But  falls  into  abatement  and  low  price, 

Even  in  a  minute !   so  full  of  shapes  is  fancy, 

That  it  alone  is  high  fantastical. 
Will  you  go  hunt,  my  lord  ? 
Duke.  What,  Curio? 

Cur.  The  hart. 
Duke.  Why,  so  I  do,  the  noblest  that  I  have : 

O,  when  mine  eves  did  see  Olivia  first. 


10 


23 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Methought  she  purged  the  air  of  pestilence !  20 

That  instant  was  I  turn'd  into  a  hart ; 
And  rny  desires,  hke  fell  and  cruel  hounds, 
E'er  since  pursue  me. 

Enter  Valentine. 

How  now  ?  what  news  from  her  ? 

Val.  So  please  my  lord,  I  might  not  be  admitted ; 
But  from  her  handmaid  do  return  this  answer ; 
The  element  itself,  till  seven  years'  heat, 
Shall  not  behold  her  face  at  ample  view ; 
But,  like  a  cloistress,  she  will  veiled  walk 
And  water  once  a  day  her  chamber  round 
With  eye-offending  brine :  all  this  to  season  30 

A  brother's  dead  love,  which  she  would  keep  fresh 
And  lasting  in  her  sad  remembrance. 

Dtike.  O,  she  that  hath  a  heart  of  that  fine  frame 
To  pay  this  debt  of  love  but  to  a  brother. 
How  will  she  love,  when  the  rich  golden  shaft 
Hath  kill'd  the  flock  of  all  affections  else 
That  live  in  her ;   when  liver,  brain  and  heart. 
These  sovereign  thrones,  are  all  supplied,  and  fill'd 
Her  sweet  perfections  with  one  self  king! 
Away  before  me  to  sweet  beds  of  flowers :  40 

Love-thoughts  lie  rich  when  canopied  with  bowers. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Viola,  a  Captain,  and  Sailors. 

Vio.  What  country,  friends,  is  this  ? 
Cap.  This  is  Illyria,  lady. 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  L  Sc.  ii. 

Vio.  And  what  should  I  do  in  Illyria? 
My  brother  he  is  in  Elysium. 
Perchance  he  is  not  drown'd;  what  think  you,  sailors? 

Cap.  It  is  perchance  that  you  yourself  were  saved. 

Vio.  O  my  poor  brother !   and  so  perchance  may  he  be. 

Cap.  True,  madam :  and,  to  comfort  you  with  chance, 
Assure  yourself,  after  our  ship  did  split. 
When  you  and  those  poor  number  saved  with  you    lo 
Hung  on  our  driving  boat,  I  saw  your  brother. 
Most  provident  in  peril,  bind  himself, 
Courage  and  hope  both  teaching  him  the  practice, 
To  a  strong  mast  that  lived  upon  the  sea ; 
Where,  like  Arion  on  the  dolphin's  back, 
I  saw  him  hold  acquaintance  with  the  waves 
So  long  as  I  could  see. 

Vio.  For  saying  so,  there  's  gold : 

Mine  own  escape  unfoldeth  to  my  hope. 

Whereto  thy  speech  serves  for  authority,  20 

The  like  of  him.     Know'st  thou  this  country? 

Cap.  Ay,  madam,  well ;  for  I  was  bred  and  born 
Not  three  hours'  travel  from  this  very  place. 

Via.  Who  governs  here? 

Cap.  A  noble  Duke,  in  nature  as  in  name. 

Vio.  What  is  his  name  ? 

Cap.  Orsino. 

Vio.  Orsino !    I  have  heard  my  father  name  him : 
He  was  a  bachelor  then. 

Cap.  And  so  is  now,  or  was  so  very  late ;  3^ 

For  but  a  month  ago  I  went  from  hence. 
And  then  'twas  fresh  in  murmur, — as,  you  know, 
What  great  ones  do  the  less  will  prattle  of, — 
That  he  did  seek  the  love  of  fair  Olivia. 


25 


f\(.ex 


Act  I.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Vio.  What 's  she  ? 

Cap.  A  virtuous  maid,  the  daughter  of  a  count 

That  died  some  twelvemonth  since ;  then  leaving  her 
In  the  protection  of  his  son,  her  brother, 
Who  shortly  also  died:  for  whose  dear  love, 
They  say,  she  hath  abjured  the  company  40 

And  sight  of  men. 

Vio^  O  that  I  served  that  lady. 

And  might  not  be  delivered  to  the  world, 
Till  I  had  made  mine  own  occasion  mellow,  « 

What  mv  ^^i^iff  "^  ^^^-^ C^o^;.^^  ^V<-^eJ^-^ 

Cap.  That  were  hard  to  compass ; 

Because  she  will  admit  no  kind  of  suit, 
No,  not  the  Duke's. 

Vio.  There  is  a  fair  behaviour  in  thee,  captain; 
And  though  that  nature  with  a  beauteous  wall 
Doth  oft  close  in  pollution,  yet  of  thee 
I  will  believe  thou  hast  a  mind  that  suits  50 

With  this  thy  fair  and  outward  character. 
I  prithee,  and  I  '11  pay  thee  bounteously. 
Conceal  me  what  I  am,  and  be  my  aid 
For  such  disguise  as  haply  shall  become 
The  form  of  my  intent.     I  '11  serve  this  Duke : 
Thou  shalt  present  me  as  an  eunuch  to  him : 
It  may  be  worth  thy  pains ;   for  I  can  sing, 
And  speak  to  him  in  many  sorts  of  music. 
That  will  allow  me  very  worth  his  service. 
What  else  may  hap  to  time  I  will  commit ;  60 

Only  shape  thou  thy  silence  to  my  wit. 

Cap.  Be  you  his  eunuch,  and  your  mute  I  '11  be : 

When  my  tongue  blabs,  then  let  mine  eyes  not  see. 

Vio.  I  thank  thee:  lead  me  on.  [Exeiuit 

26 


%..  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  L  Sc.  iii 

Olivia's  house.  pajdh'aMljif 

Enter  Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Maria.  '*^~^ 


Sir  To.  What  a  plague  means  my  niece,  to  take  the 
death  of  her  brother  thus  ?  I  am  sure  care  's  an 
enemy  to  Hfe. 

Mar.  By  my  troth,   Sir   Toby,   you   must   come   in     -a  ^ 

earHer  o'  nights :     your  cousin,  my  lady,  takes  dtMi^adhjL 
great  exceptions  to  your  ill  hour^.^,  fv.A^Zj^LuJ.Ujioe^  i 

Sir  To.  Why,  let  her  except,  before  excepted.  J^^x^^'      /^.aj>v  Or,  ' 

Mar.  Ay,  but  you  must  confine  vourself  withm  tn^  q  n 

modest  limits  of  order.  '  ^^UjCMuiX 

Sir  To.  Confine  !     I  '11  confine  myself  no  finer  than  I     lo 

am :  these  clothes  are  good  enough  to  drink  in ;     i,i^  ^g&cj 

i      ^ 

them  hang  themselves  in  their  own  straps.  ^*^l^  iiceu 


and  so  be  these  boots  too :    an  they  be  not,  let 


Mar.  That  quaffing  and  drinking  will  undo  you :    I     ^  w2t/i 

heard  my  lady  talk  of  it  yesterday ;    and  of  a     ^        ^  J« 

foolish  knight  that  you  brought  in  one  night  here    J)^^'  ^ 

to  be  her  wooer.  •wt/iae^t^ 

Sir  To.  Who,  Sir  Andrew  Aguecheek  ?  iSciL  ^jutW    1 

Mar.  Ay,  he.  JaU^^ 

Sir  To.  He  's  as  tall  a  man  as  any  's  in  Illyria.  •  ao       1  j\ 

Mar.  What's  that  to  the  purpose  ?  ^  k^yu/k^ 

Sir  To.  Why,  he  has  three  thousand  ducats  a  year.   p^^<Ujax.t  <x 

Mar.  Ay,   but   he  '11   have   but   a   year   in   all   these    U4.-  *iijajxi. 

ducats  :  he  's  a  very  fool  and  a  prodigal.  6L  ^&^i^ 

Sir  To.  Fie,  that  you  '11  say  so !   he  plays  o'  the  viol-   ^-  ^^^Q^^ 

de-gamboys,  and  speaks  three  or  four  languages      lUg^MyM 

word  for  word  without  book,  and  hath  all  the    Un        ^^ 

good  gifts  of  nature.  ^juJHt^  ej^o^^t^ 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Mar.  He  hath  indeed,  almost  natural :    for  besides 

that  hj&'s  a  fool,  he 'sa- great  quarreller ;    and     30 

but  tl-mt  he  hatlime  giit  o^a  coward  to  allay  the 

gust  lie  hath  in  quarrelling,  'tis  thought  among 

the  prudent  he  would  quicklv  have  the  gift, of  a 

grave.  '  ^JiiJf^ 

Sir  To.  By  this  hand,  they  are  scoundrels  andsuD- 
stractors  that  say  so  of  him.     Who  are  they? 

Mar.  They  that  add,  moreover,  *  he 's  drunk  nightly 
in  your  company. 

Sir  To.  With   drinking   healths   to   my   niece :     I  '11 
.      drink  to  her  as  long  as  there  is  a  passage  in  my     40 

J/      throat  and  drink  in  Illyria : ,  he  's  a  coward  and  a 
^  a$J  covstrill  that  will  not  drink  to  mv  niece  till  his 


brains  turn  o'  the  toe  like  a  parish-top.     What, 
^  *  wench !  ^astiliano  vulgo ;    for  here  ^omes  Sir 
'  JV^  ^Andrew  Aguef  ace.  ^  icuf^AMJJVc^n 

P   iirf(?^^iU'  Enter  Sir  Andretv  Aguecheek.        *        UxtMm 

^  ^  Sir  And.  Sir  Toby  Belch!  how  now,  Sir  Toby  Belch! 

• .     ,  Sir  To.  Sweet  Sir  Andrew ! 

^  ^ 0^  Sir  And.  Bless  you,  fair  shrew. 

A  \Ar\  ]\/[qy^  And  you  too,  sir. 


P\ 


Sir  To.  Accost,  Sir  Andrew,  accost.  50 

Sir  And.  What's  that? 
Sir  To.  My  niece's  chambermaid. 
Sir  And.  Good  Alistress  Accost,  I  desire  better  ac- 
quaintance. 
Mar.  jNIy  name  is  Mary,  sir. 
Sir  And.  Good  Mistress  Mary  Accost, — 
Sir  To.  You  mistake,  knight :    '  accost '  is  front  her, 
board  .her,  woo  her,  assail  her. 

28 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  L  Sc.  iii. 

Sir  And.  By  my  troth,  I  would  not  undertake  her  in 

this  company.     Is  that  the  meaning  of  '  accost '  ?     6o  »... 

Mar.  Fare  you  well,  gentlemen. 
Sir  To.  An  thou  let  part  so,  Sir  Andrew,  would  thou 

mightst  never  draw  sword  again. 
Sir  And.  An  you  part  so,  mistress,  I  would  I  might 

never   draw   sword  again.     Fair   lady,    do   you 

think  you  have  fools  in  hand  ? 
Mar.  Sir,  I  have  not  you  by  the  hand. 
Sir  And.  Marry,  but  you  shall  have;   and  here  's  my 

hand. 
Mar.  Now  sir  '  thought  kfr^^^ra^^,  ^m^.u^.^ 

your  hand  to  the  t7]]ftprv-/har  and  let  it  cirmR. 
Sir  And.  Wherefore,     sweet-heart?       what's     your 

metaphor  ?  v 

Mar.  It^s  dry,  sir.  (^(^I^jl^  iLeuutj) ,  cSUj  ^ 
Sir  And.  Why,  I  think  so :  I  am  not  such  an  ass  but  I 

can  keep  my  hand  dry.     But  what 's  your  jest? 
Mar.  A  dry  jest,  sir.  At^AcuH^tJ^ 

Sir  And.  Are  you  full  of  them  ?         ^PolaQ^tSju)  OlAjzj;^ 
Mar.  Ay,    sir,    I   have   them   at   my  fingers'   ends :       sQcJii 

marry,  now  I  let  go  your  hand,  I  am  barren.     \Exit.    /l^ui^ 
Sir  To.  O  knight,  thou  lackest  a  cup  of  canary :  when     8i    U^^^^ 

did  I  see  thee  so  put  down  ?  ^^  ^ 

Sir  And.  Never  in  your  life,  I  think;   unless  you  see 

canary  put  me   down.     Methinks   sometimes   I 

have  no  more  wit  than  a  Christian  or  an  ordinary 

man  has :   but  I  am  a  great  eater  of  beef  and  I 

believe  that  does  harm  to  my  wit. 
Sir  To.  No  question. 
Sir  And.  An  I  thought  that,  I 'Id  forswear  it.     I'll 

ride  home  to-morrow ,   Sir  Toby.  90 

29 


f 


Act  I.  Sc.  iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Sir  To.  Pourquoi,  my  dear  knight  ? 
Sir  And.  What  is   'pourquoi'?    do  or  not   do?     I 
/  would  I  had  bestowed  that  time  in  the  tongues 
that  I  have  in  fencing,  dancing  and  bear-baiting : 
O,  had  I  but  followed  the  arts !  (MjLajcQjcJU,..^.m^^ 

ir  To.  Then  hadst  thou  had  an  excellent  head  of  ^^ 

^  -  Sir  And.  Why,  would  that  have  mended  my  hair?      ^3^»x<a^_ 
t  /  /  Sir  To.  Past  question  ;   for  thou  seest  it  will  not  curl    'Utle^ 
y  c      V  by  nature.  loo  pjut. 

J^t>^      Sir  And.  But   it   becomes   me   well   enough,    does 't 

not? 
Sir  To.  Excellent ;    it  hangs  like  flax  on  a  distaff ; 

and  I  hope  to  see  a  housewife  take  thee  between 

her  legs  and  spin  it  off. 
Sir  And.  Faith,    I'll    home    to-morrow,    Sir    Toby: 

your  niece  will  not  be  seen ;    or  if  she  be,  it 's 

four  to  one  she  '11  none  of  me :  the  count  himself 

here  hard  by  woos  her. 
Sir  To.  She'll  none  o'  the  count:    she'll  not  match  no 

above  her  degree,  neither  in  estate,  years,  nor 

wit ;    I  have  heard  her  swear  't.     Tut,  there  's 

Hfe  in  't,  man. 
Sir  And.  I  '11  stay  a  month  longer.     I  am  a  fellow 

o'  the  strangest  mind  i'  the  world ;    I  delight  in 

masques  and  revels  sometimes  altogether. 
Sir  To.  Art  thou  good  at  these  kickshawses,  knight  ? 
Sir  And.  As  any  man  in  Illyria,  whatsoever  he  be, 

under  the  degree  of  my  betters :   and  vet  J  wiU 

not  compare  with  an  old  man/*^c.c/»Y<-^^  jS^  fdi^l^^hf 
Sir  To.  Wliat  is  thy  excellence  in  a  galliard,  knight? 
Sir  And.  Faith,  I  can  cut  a  caper.       ^vjkM^ 


30 


m 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  L  Sc.  iv. 

Sir  To,  And  I  can  cut  the  mutton  to  't. 

Sir -And.  And  I  think  I  have  the  back-trick  simply  as 

strong  as  any  man  in  Illyria. 
Sir  To.  Wherefore  are  these  things  hid  ?    wherefore  ^^  <?..ex/cQ' 
have  these  gifts  a  curtain  before  'em?   are  they     P,    B     r.      ^ 
A  Hke  to  take  dust,  Hke  Mistrf jf^^^icture  ?    '^'^0'<^' 

*^^^;     why  dost  thou  not  go  to  church  in  a  galHard 
ifycd-r  I  a^d  come  home  in  a'~coranto?     My  very  walk  130 

-'    I  should  be  a  jig;    I  would  not  so  much  as  make 
SJytUcC   water  but  in   a   sink-a-pace.     What   dost  thou  ^^^  Qi^j^Qs^ 
mean  ?     Is  it  a  world  to  hide  virtues  in  ?     I  did  Oj  iTy 

think,  by  the  excellent  constitution  of  thy  leg,  it  "^^ciU/eU — 
was  formed  under  the  star  of  a'galliard.  (^cuujejL. 

Sir  And.  Ay,  'tis  strong,  and  it  does  indifferent  well 
in  a  flame-coloured  stock.     Shall  we  set  about 
some  revels? 
Sir  To.  What  shall  we  do  else  ?    were  \yq  not  born 

under  TaurusjX  ^udi  -    i^^z^A-  f  (Hjcaay        140 
Sir  And.  Taurus  !     That 's  sides  and  heart. 
Sir  To.  No,  sir ;    it  is  legs  and  thighs.     Let  me  see 
thee  caper :   ha  !   higher  :   ha,  ha  !    excellent ! 

[Exeunt. 

(>-f<Ju^i^^        Scene  IV.  .  ^/ 

^  T,eD.,e,  palace.     ^,^-,  ^  gUH^^ 

Enter  Valentine,  and  Viola  in  man's  attire.l    UOxJl/ 

Val.  If  the  Duke  continue  these  favours  towards  you,  /?^  r.       <,< 
Cesario,  you  are  like  to  be  much  advanced :    he  ,  /  }i^^^  . 
hath  known  you  but  three  days,  and  already  you   /  ;j^ 

are  no  stranger. 

Vio.  You  either  fear  his  humour  or  my  negligence 


31 


W 


Act  I.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT: 

that  you  call  in  question  the  continuance  of  his 
love :   is  he  inconstant,  sir,  in  his  favours  ? 

Val.  No,  believe  me. 

Vio.  I  thank  you.     Here  comes  the  count. 

Enter  Duke,  Curio,  and  Attendants. 

Duke.  Who  saw  Cesario,  ho?  lo 

Vio.  On  your  attendance,  my  lord ;  here. 

Duke.  Stand  you  a  while  aloof.     Cesario, 

Thou  know'st  no  less  but  all;  I  have  unclasp'd 
To  thee  the  book  even  of  my  secret  soul : 
Therefore,  good  youth,  address  thy  gai^unto  her ; 
Be  not  denied  access,  stand  at  her  doors, 
And  tell  them,  there  thy  fixed  foot  shall  grow 
Till  thou  have  audience. 

Vio.  Sure,  my  noble  lord. 

If  she  be  so  abandon'd  to  her  sorrow 
As  it  is  spoke,  she  never  will  admit  me.  20 

Duke.  Be  clamorous  and  leap  all  civil  bounds 
Rather  than  make  unprofited  return. 

Vio.  Say  I  do  speak  with  her,  my  lord,  what  then  ? 

Duke.  O,  then  unfold  the  passion  of  my  love. 

Surprise  her  with  discourse  of  my  dear  faith : 
It  shall  become  thee  well  to  act  my  woes ; 
MAlWfi^S^    She  will  attend  it  better  in  thy  youth 

f\  Than  in  a  nuncio's  of  more  grave  aspect. 

Vio.  I  think  not  so,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Dear  lad,  believe  it; 

For  they  shall  yet  belie  thy  happy  years,  30 

That  say  thou  art  a  man  :  Diana's  Hp 
Is  not  more  smooth  and  rubious  ;  thy  small  pipe 
Is  as  the  maiden's  organ,  shrill  and  sound; 

32 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  L  Sc.  v. 

And  all  is  semblative  a  woman's  part. 

I  know  thy  constellation  is  right  apt  (\ 

For  this  affair.     Some  four  or  five  attend  him  ;     iiaS^  ^ 
All,  if  you  will ;   for  I  myself  7vcw\^es.X^ —  '^^^'^ihjji^-^^     C 
When  least  in  company',  '^l^sper  well  in  this,     '    ^  ^j^^iM^ 


^^jJ^* 


And  thou  shalt  live  as  freely  as  thy  lord. 
To  call  his  fortunes  thine. 
Vio.  I  '11  do  my  best^  .  ^-^-^lj^(juX>kJL^ 


To  woo  your  lady:    [Asidc^   yet,  a  barfuT  strife 
Whoe'er  I  woo,  myself  would  be  his  wife.   [Exeunt. 


I/)6^Cl.  jiMoiA/^m. 


Scene  V. 

Oliz'iafs  house.     ^uJkc^^^  C^  <■ 
Enter  Maria  and  Llozvn.  ^ j/^    -^ 

Mar.  Nay,  either  tell  me  where  thou  hast  been,  or 

I  will  not  open  my  lips  so  wide  as  a  bristle  may 

enter  in  way  of  thy  excuse :   my  lady  will  hang 

thee  for  thy  absence. 
Clo.  Let  her  hang  me :  he  that  is  well  hanged  in  this 

world  needs  to  fear  no  colours^  ' 

Mar.  Make  that  good. 
Clo.  He  shall  see  none  to  fear. 
Mar.  A  good  lenten  answer:    I  can  tell  thee  where 

that  saying  was  born,  of  '  I  fear  no  colours.'  lo 

Clo.  Where,  good  Mistress  Mary? 
Mar.  In  the  wars :   and  that  may  you  be  bold  to  say 

in  your  foolery. 
Clo.  Well,  God  give  them  wisdom  that  have  it ;  and 

those  that  are  fools,  let  them  use  their  talents. 
Mar.  Yet  you  will  be  hanged  for  being  so  long  ab- 

33 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

sent ;   or,  to  be  turned  away,  is  not  that  as  good 
as  a  hanging  to  you  ? 
Clo./y[di.ny  a  good  hanging  prevents  a  bad  marriage ;     20 
and,  for  turning  away,  let  summer  bear  it,  out. 


^^^^    Mar.  You  are  resolute,  then  ? 

Clo.  Not  so,  neither ;  but  I  am  resolved  on  two  points. 

Mar.  That  if  one  break,  ^he  other  will  hold ;    or,  if 

both  break,  your  ^gasBiLs.  ifall.  '^ 

Clo.  Apt,  in  good  faith;  very  apt."  Well,  go  thy 
way;  if  Sir  Toby  would  leave  drinking,  thou 
wert  as  witty  a  piece  of  Eve's  flesh  as  any  in  Illyria. 

Mar.  Peace,    you    rogue,'  no   more    o'    that.     Here 

comes  my  lady :    make  your  excuse  wisely,  you     30 
were  best.  [Exit. 

Clo.  Wit,  an  't  be  thy  will,  put  me  into  good  fooling ! 
Those  wits,  that  think  they  have  thee,  do  very 
oft  prove  fools ;  and  I,  that  am  sure  I  lack  thee,      .^     ^ 
may  pass  tor  a  wise  man  ;   for  what  says  (Juma-  Q  i 

palus  ?     '  Better  a  witty  fool  than  a  foolish  wit.' 

Enter  Lady  Olivia  with  Maholio. 

God  bless  thee,  lady ! 
OH.  Take  the  fool  away. 

Clo.  Do  you  not  hear,  fellows  ?     Take  away  the  lady. 
OH.  Go  to,  you  're  a  dry  fool ;   I  '11  no  more  of  you  :     40 
besides,  you  grow  dishonest. 
/  Clo.  Two    faults,  madonna,  that    drink    and    good 
•^\8r^        counsel  will  amend :  for  give  the  dry  fool  drink, 
i^r!\iLrJt.      then  is  the  fool  not  dry :   bid  the  dishonest  man 
mend  himself ;   if  he  mend,  he  is  no  longer  dis- 
honest ;   if  he  cannot,  let  the  botcher  mend  him. 
Ij       ^  Any  thing  that 's  mended  is  but  patched :   virtue 

tf^  34 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  L  Sc.  v. 

that  transgresses  is  but  patched  with  sin ;  and 
sin  that  amends  is  but  patched  with  virtue.  If 
that  this  simple  syllogism  will  serve,  so;  if  it  50 
will  not,  what  remedy?  As  there  is  no  true 
cuckold  but  calamity,  so  beauty 's  a  flower. 
The  lady  bade  take  away  the  fool;  therefore, 
I  say  again,  take  her  away. 

Oil.  Sir,  I  bade  them  take  away  you.  n    r\  ,  1 

Clo.  Misprision  in  the  highest  degree !     Lady,  cucul-^  n    ^ 

lus  non  facit  monachurn  ;   that 's  as  much  to  say        ujunJi^ 
as  I  wear  not  motley  in  my  brain.     Good  ma- 
donna, give  me  leave  to  prove  you  a  fool. 

Oli.  Can  you  do  it  ?  60 

Clo.  Dexteriously,  good  madonna. 

Oli.  Make  your  proof. 

Clo.  I  must  catechize  you  for  it,  madonna :  good  my 
mouse  of  virtue,  answer  me. 

Oli.  Well,  sir,  for  want  of  other  idleness,  I  '11  bide 
your  proof. 

Clo.  Good  madonna,  why  mournest  thou  ? 

Oli.  Good  fool,  for  my  brother's  death. 

Clo.  I  think  his  soul  is  in  hell,  madonna. 

Oil.  I  know  his  soul  is  in  heaven,  fool.  'JO 

Clo.  The  more  fool,  madonna,  to  mourn  for  your 
brother's  soul  being  in  heaven.  Take  away  the 
fool,  gentlemen. 

Oli.  What  think  you  of  this  fool,  Malvolio?  doth 
he  not  mend  ? 

MaL  Yes,  and  shall  do  till  the  pangs  of  death  shake 
him :  infirmity,  that  decays  the  wise,  doth  ever 
make  the  better  fool. 

Clo.  God  send  you,  sir,  a  speedy  infirmity,  for  the 

35 


i;:^ 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

better  increasing  your  folly!     Sir  Toby  will  be     80 
sworn  that  I  am  no  fox;    but  he  will  not  pass 
his  word  for  two  pence  that  you  are  no  fool. 

Oli.  How  say  you  to  that,  Malvolio  ? 

Mai.  I  marvel  your  ladyship  takes  delight  in  such  a 
barren  rascal:  I  saw  him  put  down  the  other 
day  with  an  ordinary  fool  that  has  no  more  brain 
than  a  stone.  Look  you  now,  he  's  out  of  his 
guard  already;  unless  you  laugh  and  minister 
occasion  to  him,  he  is  gagged.  I  protest,  I  take 
these  wise  men,  that  crow  so  at  these  set  kind  90 
of  fools,  no  better  than  the  fools'  zanies. 

Oli.  Q^  you  are__sick  of  self-love,  Malvolio,  and  taste 
with  a  distempered  appetite.  To  be  generous, 
guiltless  and  of  free  disposition,  is  to  take  those 
things  for  bird-bolts  that  you  deem  cannon-bul- 
tts:  there  is  no  slander  in  an  allowed  fool, 
though  he  do  nothing  but  rail ;  nor  no  railing  in 
a  known  discreet  man,  though  he  do  nothing  but 
reprove.  ^        i  U  ^^  ^  ^ 

Clo.  Now    Mercury   endue   thee   with    leasing,    for  100 
thou  speakest  well  of  fools!  ,^ 


/^ 


Re-enter  Maria. 

Mar.  Madam,  there  is  at  the  gate  a  young  gentle- 
man much  desires  to  speak  with  you. 

Oil.  From  the  Count  Orsino,  is  it? 

Mar.  I  know  not,  madam:  'tis  a  fair  young  man, 
and  well  attended. 

Oli.  Who  of  my  people  hold  him  in  delay? 

Mar.  Sir  Toby,  madam,  your  kinsman. 

Oli.  Fetch  him  off,  I  pray  you;   he  speaks  nothing 

36 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  L  Sc.  v. 

but  madman:  fie  on  him!  [Exit  Maria.]  Go  no 
you,  Malvolio:  if  it  be  a  suit  from  the  count,  I 
am  sick,  or  not  at  home ;  what  you  will,  to  dis- 
miss it.  [Exit  Malvolio.]  Now  you  see,  sir, 
how  your  fooling  grows  old,  and  people  dislike  it. 
Clo,  Thou  hast  spoke  for  us,  madonna,  as  if  thy 
eldest  son  should  be  a  fool;  whose  skull  Jove 
cram  with  brains !  for, — here  he  comes, — one  of 
thy  kin  has  a  most  weak  pia  mater. 

Enter  Sir  Toby, 

OIL  By  mine  honour,  half  drunk.     What  is  he  at 

the  gate,  cousin?  120 

Sir  To.  A  gentleman. 
on.  A  gentleman  !   what  gentleman  ? 
Sir  To.  Tis   a  gentleman   here — a  plague   o'   these 

pickle-herring!     How  now,  sot! 
Clo.  Good  Sir  Toby ! 
on.  Cousin,  cousin,  how  have  you  come  so  early  by 

this  lethargy? 
Sir  To.  Lechery !     I  defy  lechery.     There  's  one  at 

the  gate. 
on.  Ay,  marry,  what  is  he?  130 

Sir  To.  Let  him  be  the  devil,  an  he  will,  I  care  not : 

give  me  faith,  say  L     Well,  it 's  all  one.  [Exit. 

OH.  What 's  a  drunken  man  like,  fool? 
Clo.  Like  a  drowned  man,  a  fool  and  a  mad  man : 

one  draught  above  heat  makes  him  a  fool ;   the 

second  mads  him ;   and  a  third  drowns  him. 
OIL  Go  thou  and  seek  the  crowner,  and  let  him  sit 

o'  my  coz  ;  for  he  's  in  the  third  degree  of  drink, 

he  's  drowned  :  go  look  after  him. 

Z7 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Clo.  He  is  but  mad  yet,  madonna;  and  the  fool  shall  140 
look  to  the  madman.  \Exit. 

Re-enter  Maholio. 

Mai.  Madam,  yond  young  fellow  swears  he  will 
speak  with  you.  I  told  him  you  were  sick;  he 
takes  on  him  to  understand  so  much,  and  there- 
fore comes  to  speak  with  you.  I  told  him  you 
were  asleep ;  he  seems  to  have  a  foreknowledge 
of  that  too,  and  therefore  comes  to  speak  with 
you.  What  is  to  be  said  to  him,  lady  ?  he 's 
fortified  against  any  denial. 
OIL  Tell  him  he  shall  not  speak  with  me.  150 

MaL  Has  been  told  so ;  _and  he  says,  he  '11  stand  at 
")  nj&^ (^^^^  your  door  like  a  ^^eriff's  post,  and  be  the 
rg  oOl  .i^j^<3t§upporter  to  a  bench,  but  he  '11  speak  with 
juxji^  jk^b^^,  you. 

>.  ixtJM OIL  What  kind  o'  man  is  he? 
5««^-^    Ma/.  Why,  of  mankind. 

OIL  What  manner  of  man  ? 

MaL  Of  very  ill  manner :   he  '11  speak  with  you,  will 
i  you  or  no. 

On.  Of  what  personage  and  years  is  he  ?  160 

MaL  Not  yet  old  enough  for  a  man,  nor  young 
enough  for  a  boy ;  as  a  squash  is  before  'tis  a 
peascod,  or  a  codling  w^hen  'tis  almost  an  apple : 
'tis  with  him  in  standing  water,  between  boy  and 
man.  He  is  very  well-favoured  and  he  speaks 
very  shrewishly;  one  would  think  his  mother's 
milk  were  scarce  out  of  him. 
OIL  Let  him  approach :  call  in  my  gentlewoman. 
MaL  Gentlewoman,  my  lady  calls.  [Exit. 

3S 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  L  Sc.  v. 

Re-enter  Maria. 

OH.  Give  me  my  veil :  come,  throw  it  o'er  my  face.      170 
We  '11  once  more  hear  Orsino's  embassy. 

Enter  Viola,  and  Attendants.        ..^c^-^-C^  /'.Jz^ 


Vio.  The  honourable  lady  of  the  house,  which  is  she? 
OIL  Speak  to  me;    I  shall  answer  for  her.     Your 

will? 
Vio    Most  radiant,  exquisite  and  unmatchable  beauty, 
—I  pray  you,  tell  me  if  this  be  the  lady  of  the 
house,  for  I  never  saw  her :    I  would  be  loath   ,__ 
to  cast  away  my  speech,  for  besides  that  it  is  ul    m^'^ 
excellently  well  penned,  I  have  taken  great  pams  Aj^^,^^^^^ 
to   con   it.     Good  beauties,   let  me   sustain  no  180^^ 
scorn;    I  am  very  comptible,  even  to,  the  least         _^/ 
sinister  usage.  UyiTMjLn^  iUf^ 

OIL  Whence  came  you,  sir?  oUrml  c&oAo^ek 

Vio    I  can  say  little  more  than  I  have  studied,  and     ^^^jj^ 
that  question 's  out  of  my  part.     Good  gentle     p    ^ 
one,  give  me  modest  assurance  if  you  be  the    /^"^ 
lady  of  the  house,  that  I  may  proceed  in  my  ^^g]^  A 
speech.  [^yS .      ^ 

0/i.  Are  you  a  comedian? 

Vio    No,  my  profound  heart:    and  yet,  by  the  very  190 
fangs  of  malice  I  swear,  I  am  not  that  I  play. 
Are  you  the  lady  of  the  house? 
Oil.  If  I  do  not  usurp  myself,  I  am. 
Vio    Most   certain,  if   you   are   she,   you   do  usurp 
yourself;   for  what  is  yours   to  bestow   is  not 
yours  to  reserve.     But  this  is   from  my  com- 
mission:   I    will   on    with   my   speech   in   your 
39 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  TWELFTH  NIGHT ; 

praise,   and   then   show    you   the  heart   of   my 
message. 
Oli.  Come  to  what  is  important  in  't :    I  forgive  you  200 

the  praise. 
Vio.  Alas,  I  took  great  pains  to  study  it,  and   'tis 

poetical. 
Oli.  It  is  the  more  like  to  be  feigned.  I  pray  you, 
keep  it  in.  I  heard  you  were  saucy  at  my  gates, 
and  allowed  your  approach  rather  to  wonder  at 
you  than  to  hear  you.  If  you  be  not  mad,  be 
gone ;  if  you  have  reason,  be  brief  :  'tis  not  that 
time  of  moon  with  me  to  make  one  in  so  skipping 
a  dialogue.  210 

Mar.  Will  you  hoist  sail,  sir  ?  here  lies  your  way. 
Vio.  No,  good  swabber;    I  am  to  hull  here  a  little 
j^yiA>f  ^.  longer.    Some  mollification  for  voiir_g-iant,  s\veet 

^ifM^^^^^^^ — "'Tacly.     Tell  me  your  mind  :   I  am  a  messenger. 
fjt^^^  Oil.  Sure,  you  have  some  hideous  matter  to  deliver, 
pP    ^&^      when  the  courtesy  of  it  is  so  fearful.     Speak 

>^^iJ^  *       '  *^^^  office. 

^r^^^^      J'io.  It  alone  concerns  your  ear.     I  bring  no  overture 
of  war,  no  taxation  of  homage :   I  hold  the  olive 
in  my  hand;   my  words  are  as  full  of  peace  as  220 
matter. 
Oli.  Yet  you  began  rudely.     What  are  you?    what 

would  you? 
Vio.  The  rudeness  that  hath  appeared  in  me  have  I 
learned  from  my  entertainment.     What  I  am, 
and  what  I  would,  are  as  secret  as  maidenhead ; 
to  your  ears,  divinity,  to  any  other's,  profanation. 
Oli.  Give  us  the  place  alone:    we  will  hear  this  di- 
vinity. [Exeunt  Maria,  and  Attendants.] 
40 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  L  Sc.  v. 

Now,  sir,  what  is  your  text  ?  230 

Vio.  Most  sweet  lady, — 

OH.  A  comfortable  doctrine,  and  much  may  be  said 
of  it.     Where  lies  your  text  ? 

Vio.  In  Orsino's  bosom. 

Oil.  In  his  bosom  !     In  what  chapter  of  his  bosom  ? 

Vio.  To  answer  by  the  method,  in  the  first  of  his 
heart. 

Oli.  O,  I  have  read  it :  it  is  heresy.  Have  you  no 
more  to  say? 

Vio.  Good  madam,  let  me  see  your  face.  240 

OH.  Have  you  any  commission  from  your  lord  to  ne- 
gotiate with  my  face  ?  You  are  now  out  of  your 
text:  but  we  will  draw  the  curtain  and  show 
you  the  picture.  Look  you,  sir,  such  a  one  I 
was  this  present :   is  't  not  well  done  ?        [  UnveiHng. 

Vio.  Excellently  done,  if  God  did  all. 

OH.  'Tis  in  grain,  sir ;   'twill  endure  wind  and  weather. 

Vio.  'Tis  beauty  truly  blent,  whose  red  and  white  *\  6t^ 
Nature's  own  sweet  and  cunning  hand  laid  on :) 
Lady,  you  are  the  cruell'st  she  alive, 
li  you  will  lead  these  graces  to  the  grave 
And  leave  the  world  no  copyl         ~ 

OU.  O,  sir,  I  will  not  be  so  hard-hearted;  I  will 
give  out  divers  schedules  of  my  beauty :  it  shall 
be  inventoried,  and  every  particle  and  utensil 
labelled  to  my  will :  as,  item,  two  lips,  indifferent 
red ;  item,  two  grey  eyes,  with  lids  to  them ; 
item,  one  neck,  one  chin,  and  so  forth.  Were 
you  sent  hither  to  praise  me? 

Vio.  I  see  you  what  you  are,  you  are  too  proud ;         260 
But,  if  you  were  the  devil,  you  are  fair. 

41 


Act  I.  Sc.  V.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

My  lord  and  master  loves  you :   O,  such  love 

Could  be  but  recompensed,  though  you  were  crown'd 

The  nonpareil  of  beauty ! 
OIL  How  does  he  love  me  ? 

Vio.  With  adorations,  fertile  tears, 

With  groans  that  thunder  love,  with  sighs  of  fire. 
OH.  Your  lord  does  know  my  mind ;   I  cannot  love  him : 

Yet  I  suppose  him  virtuous,  know  him  noble. 

Of  great  estate,  of  fresh  and  stainless  youth ; 

In  voices  well  divulged,  free,  learn'd  and  valiant ;  270 

And  in  dimension  and  the  shape  of  nature 

A  gracious  person  :  but  yet  I  cannot  love  him ; 

He  might  have  took  his  answer  long  ago. 
Vio.  If  I  did  love  you  in  my  master's  flame. 

With  such  a  suffering,  such  a  deadly  life, 

In  your  denial  I  would  find  no  sense; 

I  would  not  understand  it. 
OH.  Why,  what  would  you? 

Vio.  Make  me  a  willow  cabin  at  your  gate. 

And  call  upon  my^oul  within  the  house ; 

Write  loyal  cantons  of  contemned  love  280 

And  sing  them  loud  even  in  the  dead  of  night ; 

Halloo  your  name  to  the  reverberate  hills, 

And  make  the  babbling  gossip  of  the  air 

Cry  out  '  Olivia !  '     O,  you  should  not  rest 

Between  the  elements  of  air  and  earth. 

But  you  should  pity  me ! 
OH.  You  might  do  much. 

What  is  your  parentage? 
Vio.  Above  my  fortunes,  yet  my  state  is  well : 

I  am  a  gentleman. 
OH.  Get  you  to  your  lord ; 

42 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL    ^  Acf  L  Sc.  v. 

I  cannot  love  him  :   let  him  send  no  more  ;     1/     290 

Unless,  perchance,  you  come  to  me  again, 

To  tell  me  how  he  takes  it.     Fare  you  well : 

I  thank  you  for  your  pains :   spend  this  for  me. 
V'lo,  I  am  no  fee'd  post,  lady ;   keep  your  purse : 

My  master,  not  myself,  lacks  recompense. 

Love  make  his  heart  of  flint  that  you  shall  love ; 

And  let  your  fervour,  like  my  master's,  be 

Placed  in  contempt!     Farewell,  fair  cruelty.     [Exit, 
on.  '  What  is  your  parentage?  ' 

'  Above  my  fortunes,  yet  my  state  is  well :  300 

I  am  a  gentleman.'     I  '11  be  sworn  thou  art ; 

Thy  tongue,  thy  face,  thy  limbs,  actions,  and  spirit. 

Do  give  thee  five-fold  blazon :  not  too  fast :  soft,  soft ! 

Unless  the  master  were  the  man.     How  now ! 

Even  so  quickly  may  one  catch  the  plague? 

Methinks  I  feel  this  youth's  perfections 

With  an  invisible  and  subtle  stealth 

To  creep  in  at  mine  eyes.     Well,  let  it  be. 

What  ho,  Malvolio !  *  ^ 

Mai.  .  Here,  madam,  at  your  service.    '   ^Q^^^ 

Oli.  Run  after  that  same  peevish  messenger,  310      ^^Tl 

The  county's  man  :   he  left  this  ring  behind  him, 
W^ould  I  or  not :  tell  him  I  '11  none  of  it. 
Desire  him  not  to  flatter  with  his  lord. 
Nor  hold  him  up  with  hopes  ;   I  am  not  for  him  : 
If  that  the  youth  will  come  this  way  to-morrow, 
I  '11  give  him  reasons  for  't :   hie  thee,  Malvolio. 

Mai  Madam,  I  will.  [Exit. 

Oli.  I  do  I  know  not  what,  and  fear  to  find 

43 


Re-enter  Malvolio.        '^^^  ■  ''^-^  "» ^-^^^-^^ 


Act  II.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Mine  eye  too  great  a  flatterer  for  my  mind. 

Fate,  show  thy  force :  ourselves  we  do  not  owe ;  320 

What  is  decreed  must  be,  and  be  this  so. 

[Exit. 

<.    cw      P  -  i    0    -  ACT  SECOND.  ^ 

Scene  I. 

fOtS^  Ci/t.0C^  '^  ^Enter  Antomo  and  Sebastian, 

Ant,  Will  you  stay  no  longer  ?  nor  will  you  not  that 
I  go  with  you  ? 

Seb.  By  your  patience,  no.  My  stars  shine  darkly 
over  me :  the  malignancy  of  my  fate  might  per- 
haps distemper  yours ;  therefore  I  shall  crave  of 
you  your  leave  that  I  may  bear  my  evils  alone: 
it  were  a  bad  recompense  for  your  love,  to  lay 
any  of  them  on  you. 

Ant.  Let  me  yet  know  of  you  whither  you  are 
bound. 

Seb.  No,  sooth,  sir :  my  determinate  voyage  is  mere  10 
extravagancy.  But  I  perceive  in  you  so  excel- 
lent a  touch  of  modesty,  that  you  will  not  extort 
from  me  what  I  am  willing  to  keep  in ;  therefore 
it  charges  me  in  manners  the  rather  to  express 
myself.  You  must  know  of  me  then,  Antonio, 
my  name  is  Sebastian,  which  I  called  Roderigo. 
My  father  was  that  Sebastian  of  Messaline, 
whom  I  know  you  have  heard  of.  He  left  be- 
hind him  myself  and  a  sister,  both  born  in  an 
hour:  if  the  heavens  had  been  pleased,  would  20 
we  had  so  ended !  but  you,  sir,  altered  that ;  for 

44 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IL  Sc.  i. 

some  hour  before  you  took  me  from  the  breach 
of  the  sea  was  my  sister  drowned. 

Ant.  Alas  the  day ! 

Seb.  A  lady,  sir,  though  it  was  said  she  much  re- 
sembled me,  was  yet  of  many  accounted  beauti- 
ful :  but,  though  I  could  not  with  such  estimable 
wonder  overfar  believe  that,  yet  thus  far  I  will 
boldly  pubhsh  her;  she  bore  a  mind  that  envy 
could  not  but  call  fair.  She  is  drowned  already,  30 
sir,  with  salt  water,  though  I  seem  to  drown  her 
remembrance  again  with  more. 

Ant,  Pardon  me,  sir,  your  bad  entertainment. 

Seb.  O  good  Antonio,  forgive  me  your  trouble. 

Ant.  If  you  will  not  murder  me  for  my  love,  let  me 
be  your  servant. 

Seb.  If  you  will  not  undo  what  you  have  done,  that 
is,  kill  him  whom  you  have  recovered,  desire  it 
not.  Fare  ye  well  at  once :  my  bosom  is  full  of 
kindness,  and  I  am  yet  so  near  the  manners  of  40 
my  mother,  that  upon  the  least  occasion  more 
mine  eyes  will  tell  tales  of  me.  I  am  bound  to 
the  Count  Orsino's  court :    farewell.  [Exit. 

Ant.  The  gentleness  of  all  the  gods  go  w4th  thee! 
I  have  many  enemies  in  Orsino's  court. 
Else  would  I  very  shortly  see  thee  there. 
But,  come  what  may,  I  do  adore  thee  so. 
That  danger  shall  seem  sport,  and  I  will  go.       [Exit. 


Act  II.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT  : 

Scene  II. 

*'^\>^<h  "  A  street. 


^^^ih  A  street.  ^     q 


^       Enter  Viola,  Malvolio  following.  ^^^^^ 

Mai.  Were  not  you  even  now  with  the  Countess 
Ohvia? 

Via.  Even  now,  sir ;  on  a  moderate  pace  I  have  since 
arrived  but  hither. 

Mai.  She  returns  this  ring  to  you,  sir :  you  might 
have  saved  me  my  pains,  to  have  taken  it  away 
yourself.  She  adds,  moreover,  that  you  should 
put  your  lord  into  a  desperate  assurance  she  will 
none  of  him :  and  one  thing  more,  that  you  be 
never  so  hardy  to  come  again  in  his  affairs,  lo 
unless  it  be  to  report  your  lord's  taking  of  this. 
Receive  it  so. 

Vio.  She  took  the  ring  of  me :   I  '11  none  of  it. 

Mai.  Come,  sir,  you  peevishly  threw  it  to  her ;  and 
her  will  is,  it  should  be  so  returned:  if  it  be 
worth  stooping  for,  there  it  lies  in  your  eye;  if 
not,  be  it  his  that  finds  it.  [Exit. 

Vio.  I  left  no  ring  with  her :  what  means  this  lady  ? 
Fortune  forbid  my  outside  have  not  charm'd  her ! 
She  made  good  view  of  me ;   indeed,  so  much,        20 
That  methought  her  eyes  had  lost  her  tongue, 
For  she  did  speak  in  starts  distractedly. 
She  loves  me,  sure ;  the  cunning  of  her  passion 
Invites  me  in  this  churlish  messenger. 
None  of  my  lord's  ring!    why,  he  sent  her  none. 
I  am  the  man  :  if  it  be  so,  as  'tis. 
Poor  lady,  she  were  better  love  a  dream.. 
Disguise,  I  see,  thou  art  a  wickedness, 

46 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IL  Sc.  iii. 

Wherein  the  pregnant  enemy  does  much. 

How  easy  is  it  for  the  proper-false  30 

In  women's  waxen  hearts  to  set  their  forms ! 

Alas,  our  frailty  is  the  cause,  not  we! 

For  such  as  we  are  made  of,  such  we  be. 

How  will  this  fadge  ?  my  master  loves  her  dearly ; 

And  I,  poor  monster,  fond  as  much  on  him ; 

And  she,  mistaken,  seems  to  dote  on  me. 

What  will  become  of  this  ?     As  I  am  man, 

My  state  is  desperate  for  my  master's  love ; 

As  I  am  woman, — now  alas  the  day ! — 

What  thriftless  sighs  shall  poor  Olivia  breathe !      40 

O  time !   thou  must  untangle  this,  not  I ; 

It  is  too  hard  a  knot  for  me  to  untie !  [Exit. 


Scene  IH. 


kct^^>€<^  y^^^-^^^  ^ 


[.^ 


Olivia's  house.      Ihrti^  &m^(^^  ^ ^ 
Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  Andrew.    ^"^^  •   ^jA/v-^ 

Sir  To.  Approach,  Sir  Andrew  :  not  to  be  a-bed  after   \jix^'*^t, 
midnight  is  to  be  up  betimes ;    and   '  dilucjjZe 
surgery'  thou  know'st, — 

Sir  And.  Nay,  by  my  troth,  I  know  not :  but  I  know, 
to  be  up  late  is  to  be  up  late. 

Sir  To.  A  false  conclusion :  I  hate  it  as  an  unfilled 
can.  To  be  up  after  midnight  and  to  go  to  bed 
then,  is  early :  so  that  to  go  to  bed  after  mid- 
night is  to  go  to  bed  betimes.  Does  not  our  life 
consist  of  the  four  elements  ? 

Sir  And.  Faith,  so  they  say;  but  I  think  it  rather 
consists  of  eating  and  drinking. 

Sir  To.  Thou  'rt  a  scholar ;  let  us  therefore  eat  and 
drink.     Marian,  I  say !   a  stoup  of  wine ! 

47 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii. 


TWELFTH  NIGHT 


Enter  Clown, 


Sir  And.  Here  comes  the  fool,  i'  faith. 

Clo.  How  now,  my  hearts!    did  you  never  see  the 

picture  of  '  we  three  '  ? 
Sir  To.  Welcome,  ass.     Now  let 's  have  a  catch. 
Sir  And.  By   my   troth,    the   fool   has   an   excellent 


I 


^1/ 


v 


\y 


breast.     I  had  rather  than  fprt>;  shillings  I  had 

such  a  leg,  and  so  sweet  a  brfeath'  to  sing,  as  the 

fool  has.     In  sooth,  thou  wast  in  very  gracious 

fooling  last  night,  when  thou  spokest  of  Pigro- 

j^  gr^nitus^f  the  Vapians  passing  the  equinoctial 

offC^ueubuly    'twas  very  /good,  i'  faith.     J  sent 

ee  sixpence  for  thy  leman  \  fiadst^n?  '""'^   -tc-^^f^-i 

Clo.  I  did  impeticqs '  f hy  gratillity  ;    for  Malvolio's 

nose  is  no  whipstock :  my  lady  has  a  white  hand, 

and  the  Myrmidons  are  no  bottle-ale  houses. 

Sir  And.  Excellent!    why,  this  is  the  best  fooling, 

when  all  is  done.     Now,  2,  song. 
Sir  To.  Come  on ;    there  is  sixpence  for  you :    let 's 

have  a  song.        Ku,  cu-^--' 
Sir  And.  There's  a  testHV  of  me  too:   if  one  knight 

give  a — 
Clo.  Would  vou  have  a  love-song,  or  a  song  of  good 
.>^      ^         life? 
L     J^r\^i^  T^o.  A  love-song,  a  love-song. 
^      fc'^*  vSiV  And.  Ay,  ay :  I  care  not  for  good  Ufe. 
P^y^  ^^  Clo.    [Sings] 

^  O  mistress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming? 

O,  stay  and  hear;   your  true  love  's  coming. 

That  can  sing  both  high  and  low : 
Trip  no  further,  pretty  sweeting ; 
Journeys  end  in  lovers  meeting, 
Every  wise  man's  son  doth  know. 


20 


/AJ 


30 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Act  IL  Sc.  iii. 


CusJ^ 


Sir  And.  Excellent  good,  i',  faith. 
Sir  To.  Good,  good. 
Clo.   [Sings] 

What  is  love  ?   'tis  not  hereafter ; 
Present  mirth  hath  present  laughter ; 

What 's  to  come  is  still  unsure : 
In  delay  there  lies  no  plenty ; 
Then  come  kiss  me,  sweet  and  twenty 

Youth  's  a  stuff  will  not  endure.       l^    ,       '  a     ^ 
Sir  And.  A  mgUifluou^  voice,  as  I  am  true  knight '^^''^'^'^■'^^^^^ 
Sir  To.  A  contagious  breath.  Lkoi^\' ^jiM<{^ 

Sir  And.  Very  sweet  and  contagious,  i'  faith.  /;-    - 

Sir  To.  To  hear  by  the  nose,  it  is  dulcet  in  contagion. 
But  shall  we  make  the  welkin  dance  indeed? 
shall  we  rouse  the  night-owl  in  a  catch  that  will 
draw  three  souls  out  of  one  weaver?  shall  we 
do  that  ? 
Sir  And.  An  you  love  me,  let 's  do  't :   I  am  dog  at  a 

catch. 
Clo.  By  'r  lady,  sir,  and  some  dogs  will  catch  well. 


60 

Sir  And.  Most   certain.     Let   our   catch   be,   'Thou     i-c*n>AiBLtt 

knave.' 
Clo.  '  Hold  thy  peace,  thou  knave,'  knight  ?     I  shall 

be  constrained  in  't  to  call  thee  knave,  knight. 
Sir  And.  'Tis  not  the  first  time  I  have  constrained 

one  to  call  me  knave.     Begin,  fool :    it  begins. 

*  Hold  thy  peace.'  70 

Clo.  I  shall  never  begin  if  I  hold  my  peace. 
Sir  And.  Good,  i'  faith.     Come,  begin.         [Catch  sung. 


Enter  Maria. 

Mar.  What  a  caterwauling  do  you  keep  here!     H 
my  lady  have  not  called  up  her  steward  Malvolio 


49 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT: 

and  bid  him  turn  you  out  of  doors,  never  trust 

me. 
7)  Sir  To.  My   lady  >  a   Cataian,    we   are   politicians, 

'4CUjLt^^^    Malvolio  's  a  Teg-a-Ramsay,  and  '  Three  merry 

i) ^         0       ^^^  ^^  ^^•'     ^"^  ^^^  ^  consanguineous  ?    am  I 
Z^      ^         not  of  her  blood?     Tillyvally/ " Lady !   [Smo^^]     80 
UM^^         '  There  dwelt  a  man  in  Babylon,  lady,  lady ! ' 

Clo.  Beshrew  me,  the  knight 's  in  admirable  fooling. 
Sir  And.  Ay,  he  does  well  enough  if  he  be  disposed, 
and  so  do  I  too :   he  does  it  with  a  better  grace, 
but  I  do  it  more  natural. 
jCi^       Sir  To.   [Sings]  '  O,  the  twelfth  day  of  December ', — 
^IJUCf^cM^''^'  ^^^  ^^^  ^^^^  ^'  God,  peace ! 

Enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  My  masters,  are  you  mad?  or  what  are  you. 
Have  you  no  wit,  manners,  nor  honesty,  but  to 
gabble  like  tinkers  at  this  time  of  night?  Dp  90 
ye  make  an  alehouse  of  my  lady's  house,  that 
ye  squeak  out  your_coziers'  catches  without  anv 
/  mitigation  or  remorse  of  vojce?  Is  there  no 
/  respect  of  place,  persons,  nor  time  in  you? 
Sir  To.  We    did    keep    time,    sir,    in    our    catches. 

Sneck  up ! 
Mai.  Sir  Toby,  I  must  be  round  with  you.     My  lady 
bade   me  tell   you,   that,   though   she  harbours 
you  as  her  kinsman,  she  's  nothing  allied  to  your 
&  \i  disorders.     If   you   can   separate   yourself   and  loc 

^^/  y°^^  misdemeanours,  you  are  welcome  to  the 

^     j  house;    if  not,  an  it  would  please  you  to  take 

I  leave  of  her,  she  is  very  willing  to  bid  you  fare- 

well. 

SO 


^?^" 

^•^ 

N 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IL  Sc.  iii. 

Sir  To.  '  Farewell,  dear  heart,  since  I  must  needs  be 

gone.'  ;..,.......  ,    'JaX^MJ 

Mar,  Nay,  good  Sir  Toby.  \)  -^ 

Clo.  *  His  eyes  do  show  his  days  are  almost  done/ 

Mai.  Is  't  even  so  ? 

Sir  To.  'But  I  will  never  die.'  no 

Clo.  Sir  Toby,  there  you  lie. 

Mai.  This  is  much  credit  to  you. 

Sir  To.  'Shall  I  bid  him  go?' 

Clo.  '  What  an  if  you  do?  ' 

Sir  To.  '  Shall  I  bid  him  go,  and  spare  not  ?  '   . 

Clo.  '  O  no,  no,  no,  no,  you  dare  not.'  -  ^Jioxjiru-  GiS<^i\j-ii^^^\ca.  Lu 

Sir  To.  Out   o'   tune,    sir :    ye   lie.     Art   any   more 

than  a  steward  ?     Dost  thou  think,  because  thou    . 

^  i >  ^^  ^ 

art  virtuous,  there  shall  be  no  more  cakes_and     '    * 
ade?  ~  120 

Clo.  Yes,  by  Saint  Anne,  and  ginger  shall  be  hot  i' 
the  mouth  too. 

Sir  To.  Thou'rt  i'  the  right.  Go,  sir,  rub  your  chain 
with  crumbs.     A  stoup  of  wine,  Maria ! 

Mai.  Mistress  Mary,  if  you  prized  my  lady's  favour 
at  any  thing  more  than  contempt,  you  would  not 
give  means  for  this  uncivil  rule :  she  shall  know 
of  it,  by  this  hand.  [Exit. 

Mar.  Go  shake  your  ears. 

Sir  And.  'Twere  as  good  a  deed  as  to  drink  when  130 
a  man  's  a-hungry,  to  challenge  him  the  field,  and 
then  to  break  promise  with  him  and  make  a  fool 
of  him. 

Sir  To.  Do  't  knight :  I  '11  write  thee  a  challenge ; 
or  I  '11  deliver  thy  indignation  to  him  by  word 
of  mouth. 

$1 


Act  II.  Sc.  iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT ; 

Mar,  Sweet  Sir  Toby,  be  patient  for  to-night :  since 
the  youth  of  the  count's  was  to-day  with  my 
lady,  she  is  much  out  of  quiet.  For  Monsieur 
MalvoHo,  let  me  alone  with  him  :  if  I  do  not  gull  140 
him  into  a  nayword,  and  make  him  a  common 
■-Jn^  7  Recreation,  do  not  think  I  have  wit  enough  to 
V'/yiJ^f?Jaxjf  ^i^  straight  in  my  bed :   I  know  I  can  do  it. 

Sir  To.  Possess  us,  possess  us ;  tell  us  something  of 

Mar.  Marry,  sir,  sometimes  he  is  a  kind  of  puritan,  -j^e-^^ , 
Sir  And.  O^  if  I  thought  that,  I  'Id  beat  him  like  a  dog ! 
Sir  To.  What,   for  being  a  puritan  ?    thy   exquisite 

reason,  dear  knight  ? 
Sir  And.  I  have  no  exquisite  reason  for  't,  but  I  have  150 

reason  good  enough. 


(i,^/ 

s^:"?] 


or  any  tnmg 
j       constantly,  but  a  time-pleaser ;  _atr|^ife^ron^7/5        7 
'S^ .  ass,  that  cons  state  without  book  and  utters  it  by 


aP-^ 


Mar.  The  devil  a  puritan  that  he  is,  or  any^tl 

U  _  I' 

^'    gTeat_swarths  :  the  best  persuaded  of  himself,  so^^^ 
^1^  crammed,  as  he  thinks,  with  excellencies,  that  it 
\^v       is  his  grounds  of  faith  that  all  that  look  on  him', . 

love  him ;   and  on  that  vice  in  him  will  my  re-   Yti  '  ^ 
venge  find  notable  cause  to  work.  otjl 

Sir  To.  What  wilt  thou  do  ?  ico  ' 

Mar.  I  will  drop  in  his  way  some  obscure  epistles 
of  love;  wherein,  by  the  colour  of  his  beard, 
the  shape  of  his  leg,  the  manner  of  his  gait,  the 
expressure  of  his  eye,  forehead,  and  complexion, 
he  shall  find  himself  most  feelingly  personated. 
I  can  write  very  like  my  lady  your  niece :  on  a 
forgotten  matter  we  can  hardly  make  distinction 
of  our  hands. 

52 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IL  Sc.  iii. 

Sir  To,  Excellent !     I  smell  a  device. 

Sir  And.  I  have  't  in  my  nose  too. 

Sir  To.  He  shall  think,  by  the  letters  that  thou  wilt  170 
drop,  that  they  come  from  my  niece,  and  that 
she  's  in  love  with  him. 

Mar.  My  purpose  is,  indeed,  a  horse  of  that  colour. 

Sir  And.  And  your  horse  now  would  make  him  an 
ass. 

Mar,  Ass,  I  doubt  not. 

Sir  And.  O,  'twill  be  admirable ! 

Mar.  Sport  royal,  I  warrant  you :  I  know  my  physic 
will  work  with  him.  I  will  plant  you  two,  and 
let  the  fool  make  a  third,  where  he  shall  find  the  180 
letter :  observe  his  construction  of  it.  For  this 
night,  to  bed,  and  dream  on  the  event.  Fare- 
well. -T  ^         {Exit, 

Sir  To.  Good  night,  Penj^hesilea.  ^    ^"UJ^^^x^ 

Sir  And.  Before  me,  she  's  a  good  wench. 

Sir  To.  She 's  a  beagle,  true-bred,  and  one  that 
adores  me :  what  o'  that  ? 

Sir  And,  I  was  adored  once  too. 

Sir  To.  Let 's  to  bed,  knight.  Thou  hadst  need  send 
for  more  money. 

Sir  And.  If  I  cannot  recover  your  niece,  I  am  a  foul  190 
way  out. 

Sir  To.  Send  for  money,  knight ;  if  thou  hast  her  not 
i'  the  end,  call  me  cut.  ^    '■■■'.  ' 

Sir  And.  If  I  do  not,  never  trust  me,  take  it  how  you 
will. 

Sir  To.  Come,  come,  I  '11  go  bum  some  sack  ;  'tis  too 
late  to  go  to  bed  now :  come,  knight ;  come, 
knight.  [Exeunt. 

53 


Actll.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Vol      *  0-^/^"^  Enter  Duke,  Viola,  Curio,  and  others. 

Duke.  Give  me  some  music.    Now,  good  morrow,  friends, 
Now,  good  Cesario,  but  that  piece  of  song, 
That  old  and  antique  song  we  heard  last  night : 
Methought  it  did  relieve  my  passion  much, 
More  than  light  airs  and  recollected  terms 
Of  these  most  brisk  and  giddy-paced  times : 
Come,  but  one  verse. 

Cur.  He  is  not  here,  so  please  your  lordship,  that 
should  sing  it. 

Duke.  Who  was  it?  lo 

Cur.  Feste,  the  jester,  my  lord;  a  fool  that  the  lady 
Olivia's  father  took  much  delight  in.  He  is 
about  the  house. 

Duke.  Seek  him  out,  and  play  the  tune  the  while. 

\Exit  Curio.     Music  plays. 
Come  hither,  boy :  if  ever  thou  shalt  love. 
In  the  sweet  pangs  of  it  remember  me ; 
For  such  as  I  am  all  true  lovers  are, 
Unstaid  and  skittish  in  all  motions  else, 
Save  in  the  constant  image  of  the  creature 
That  is  beloved.     How  dost  thou  like  this  tune  ?     20 

Vio.  It  gives  a  very  echo  to  the  seat 
Where  love  is  throned. 

Duke.  Thou  dost  speak  masterly : 

My  life  upon  't,  young  though  thou  art,  thine  eye 
Hath  stay'd  upon  some  favour  that  it  loves : 
Hath  it  not,  boy  ? 

54 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IL  Sc.  iv. 

Vio.  A  little,  by  your  favour. 

Duke.  What  kind  of  woman  is  't? 

Vio.   .  Of  your  complexion. 

Duke.  She  is  not  worth  thee,  then.    What  years,  i'  faith? 

Vio.  About  your  years,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Too  old,  by  heaven :  let  still  the  woman  take 

An  elder  than  herself ;   so  wears  she  to  him,  30 

So  sways  she  level  in  her  husband's  heart : 

For,  boy,  however  we  do  praise  ourselves, 

Our  fancies  are  more  giddy  and  unfirm, 

More  longing,  wavering,  sooner  lost  and  worn. 

Than  women's  are. 

Vio.  I  think  it  well,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Then  let  thy  love  be  younger  than  thyself, 
Or  thy  affection  cannot  hold  the  bent ; 
For  women  are  as  roses,  whose  fair  flower 
Being  once  display'd  doth  fall  that  very  hour. 

Vio.  And  so  they  are :  alas,  that  they  are  so ;  40 

To  die,  even  when  they  to  perfection  grow ! 

Re-enter  Curio  and  Clown. 

Duke.  O,  fellow,  come,  the  song  we  had  last  night. 
Mark  it,  Cesario,  it  is  old  and  plain  ; 
The  spinsters  and  the  knitters  in  the  sun 
And  the  free  maids  that  weave  their  thread  with 

bones 
Do  use  to  chant  it :   it  is  silly  sooth, 
And  dallies  with  the  innocence  of  love, 
Like  the  old  age. 
Clo.  Are  you  ready,  sir  ?  5° 

Duke.  Ay;   prithee,  sing.  [Music, 

55 


Act  II.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

S#NG. 

do.  Come  away,  come  away,  death. 

And  in  sad  cypress  let  me  be  laid ; 
Fly  away,  fly  away,  breath ; 

I  am  slain  by  a  fair  cruel  maid. 
My  shroud  of  white,  stuck  all  with  yew,  ^ 

O,  prepare  it! 
My  part  of  death,  no  one  so  true 
Did  share  it. 

Not  a  flower,  not  a  flower  sweet,  60 

On  my  black  coffin  let  there  be  strown ; 
Not  a  friend,  not  a  friend  greet 

My  poor  corpse,  where  my  bones  shall  be  thrown : 
A  thousand  thousand  sighs  to  save. 

Lay  me,  O,  where 
Sad  true  lover  never  find  my  grave. 
To  weep  there! 

Duke.  There's  for  thy  pains. 

Clo.  No  pains,  sir ;  I  take  pleasure  in  singing,  sir. 

Duke.  I  '11  pay  thy  pleasure  then.  70 

Clo.  Truly,  sir,  and  pleasure  will  be  paid,  one  time  or 
another. 

Duke.  Give  me  now  leave  to  leave  thee. 

Clo.  Now,  the  melancholy  god  protect  thee ;  and  the 
tailor  make  thy  doublet  of  changeable  taffeta,  for 
thy  mind  is  a  very  opal.  I  would  have  men  of 
such  constancy  put  to  sea,  that  their  business 
might  be  every  thing  and  their  intent  every 
where ;  for  that 's  it  that  always  makes  a  good 
voyage  of  nothing.     Farewell.  [Exit.     80 

56 


•R,  WHAT  Y#l  WILL  Act  H.  Sc.  iv. 

Duke.  Let  all  the  rest  give  place. 

[Curio  and  Attendants  retire. 
Once  more,  Cesario, 
Get  thee  to  yond  same  sovereign  cruelty : 
Tell  her,  my  love,  more  noble  than  the  world. 
Prizes  not  quantity  of  dirty  lands ; 
The  parts  that  fortune  hath  bestow'd  upon  her, 
Tell  her,  I  hold  as  giddily  as  fortune ; 
But  'tis  that  miracle  and  queen  of  gems 
That  nature  pranks  her  in  attracts  my  soul. 

Vio.  But  if  she  cannot  love  you,  sir  ? 

Duke.  I  cannot  be  so  answer'd. 

Vio.  Sooth,  but  you  must.     90 

Say  that  some  lady,  as  perhaps  there  is. 
Hath  for  your  love  as  great  a  pang  of  heart 
As  you  have  for  Olivia :   you  cannot  love  her ; 
You  tell  her  so ;  must  she  not  then  be  answer'd  ? 

Duke.  There  is  no  w^oman's  sides  v—  n 

Can  bide  the  beating  of  so  strong  a  passion     (LA^-e^  IkjLHji^ 
As  love  doth  give  my  heart :  no  woman's  heart)  ^gJlj^^^^'^ 
So  big,  to  hold  so  much  ;  they  lack  retention.   (    J)f£' 
Alas,  their  love  may  be  call'd  appetite, —  7   WuZ>^_,  u 

No  motion  of  the  liver,  but  the  palate, —  ^    100 

That  suffer  surfeit,  cloyment  and  revolt ;         j^i'^aji^uJAaju 
But  mine  is  all  as  hungry  as  the  sea,  )^^  •  v^' 

And  can  digest  as  much :   make  no  compare 
Between  that  love  a  woman  can  bear  me 
And  that  I  owe  Olivia. 

Vio.  Ay,  but  I  know, — 

Duke.  What  dost  thou  know? 

Vio.  Too  well  what  love  women  to  men  may  owe : 
In  faith,  they  are  as  true  of  heart  as  we. 

57 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

My  father  had  a  daughter  loved  a  man, 

As  it  might  be,  perhaps,  were  I  a  woman,  no 

I  should  your  lordship. 

Duke.  And  what 's  her  history  ? 

Vio.  A  blank,  my  lord.     She  never  told  her  love. 
But  let  concealment,  like  a  worm  i'  the  bud. 
Feed  on  her  damask  cheek :  she  pined  in  thought ; 
And,  with  a  green  and  yellow  melancholy. 
She  sat  like  patience  on  a  monument. 
Smiling  at  grief.     Was  not  this  love  indeed  ? 
We  men  may  say  more,  swear  more :  but  indeed 
Our  shows  are  more  than  will ;   for  still  we  prove 
Much  in  our  vows,  but  little  in  our  love.  120 

Duke.  But  died  thy  sister  of  her  love,  my  boy? 

Vio.  I  am  all  the  daughters  of 'my  father's  house, 
And  all  the  brothers  too :  and  yet  I  know  not. 
Sir,  shall  I  to  this  lady  ? 

Duke.  Ay,  that 's  the  theme. 

To  her  in  haste  ;  give  her  this  jewxl ;  say, 
My  love  can  give  no  place,  bide  no  denay. 

{^    rv._-^\       ^  Scene  V.  t^'6.  WjuL»3k>c;U^n 

'  Enter  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Fabian. 

''^''      •   Sir  To.  Come  thy  ways,  Signior  Fabian. 
1^  J^        Fab.  Nay,  I  '11  come  :  if  I  lose  a  scruple  of  this  sport, 

A  let  me  be  boiled  to  death  with  melancholy. 

^  Sir  To.  Wouldst  thou  not  be  glad  to  have  the  nig- 

^ardlv  rascally  sheep-biter  come  bv  some  notable 
J^  fhame? 

58 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  H.  Sc.  v. 

Fab.  I  would  exult,  man :   you  know,  he  brought  me 

out  o'  favour  with  my  lady  about  a  bear-baiting 

here. 
Sir  To.  To  anger  him  we  '11  have  the  bear  again  ;  and     lo 

we  will  fool  him  black  and  blue:    shall  we  not, 

Sir  Andrew? 
Sir  And.  An  we  do  not,  it  is  pity  of  our  lives. 
Sir  To.  Here  comes  the  little  villain. 

Enter  Maria. 


How  now,  my  <^iet^rbf  India  ! 
Mar.  Get  ye  all  three  into  the  box-tree :  Malvolio's 
coming  down  this  walk :  he  has  been  yonder  i' 
the  sun  practising  behaviour  to  his  own  shadow 
this  half  hour:  observe  him,  for  the  love  of 
mockery ;  for  I  know  this  letter  will  make  a  20 
contemplative  idiot  of  him.  Close,  in  the  name 
of  jesting!  Lie  thou  there  [throws  down  a  let- 
ter] ;  for  here  comes  the  trout  that  must  be 
caught  with  tickling.  [Exit. 

Enter  Malvolio. 

Mai.  'Tis  but  fortune ;_- all, Js  fortune.     Maria  once)    nj  -    ■ 

told  me  she  did^^a^f^  and  I  have  heard  her-  ei^Wfiia^ 
self  come  thus  near,  that,  should  she  fancy,  iti  '^•'^^  tiixA. 
should  be  one  of  my  complexion.     Besides,  shej 
uses  me  with  a  more  exalted  respect  than  any  I 
one  else  that  follows  her.     What  should  I  thinks  30 
on't? 

Sir  To.  Here  's  an  overweening  rogue  ! 

Fah.  O,  peace !  Contemplation  makes  a  rare  turkey- 
cock  of  him :  how  he  jets  under  his  advanced 
plumes ! 

59 


AJi^JU^ct.  yLH^dL^ 


i 


TWELFTH  NIGHT: 

Sir  And.  'Slight,  I  could  so  beat  the  rogue ! 

Sir  To.  Peace,  I  say. 

Mai  To  be  Count  Malvolio ! 

Sir  To.  Ah,  rogue ! 

Sir  And.  Pistol  him,  pistol  him. 

Sir  To.  Peace,  peace !  40 

Mai.  There  is  example  for  't ;  the  lady  of  the  Strachy 
married  the  yeoman  of  the  wardrobe. 

Sir  And.  Fie  on  him,  ]&zthQ\Ar-{euou^ru.ca^.  <rLU><.ttSU^ucu^^ 

Fab.  O,  peace!   now  he's  deeply  in:    look  how  im-    ^^ 
agination  blows  him.  A/u^-^ 

Mai.  Having  been  three  months  married  to  her,  sit- 
ting in  my  state, — (4<jut.^,  tioi  /ImjiA^juA^.'jr  Iuj*J^ Crfft,  t^ 

Sir  To.  O,  for  a  stone-bow,  to  hit  him  in  the  eye ! 

Mai.  Calling  my  officers  about  me,  in  my  branched 

velvet   gown ;     having   come    from   a    day-bed,     50 
where  I  have  left  Olivia  sleeping, —  (-^zt^z-U-t-Jo^b-*  +    a 

Sir  To.  Fire  and  brimstone !  -^^T^  ^^^'^^=i^ 

Fah.  O,  peace,  peace !  ^ 

Mai.  And  then  to  have  the  humour  of  state;  and 
after  a  demure  travel  of  regard,  telling  them  I 
know  my  place  as  I  would  they  should  do  theirs, 
to  ask  for  mv  kinsman  Toby,—  ^  ot^^^^^^  <^^ 

Sir  To.  Bolts  and  shackles !  ^  LUt»J^  /^^^ 

Fah.  O,  peace,  peace,  peace !  now,  now. 

Mai.  Seven  of  my  people,   with  an  obedient  start,     60 
make  out  for  him  :   I  frown  the  while  ;   and  per-,      tj 
chance  wind  up  my  watch,  or  play  with  ^y—^^^^!!,) 
some  rich  jewel.     Toby  approaches  ;    courtesies..'"'^' 
there  to  me, —  (  UuJMj^'c  (i^u.^ujuO'  do  ^l^cslji  <iSi\S 

Sir  To.  Shall  this  fellow  live?         /      '  ^  ^"^^ 

Fah.  Though  our  silence  be  drawn  from  us  with  cars, 
yet  peace. 
^^,_  60 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Act  IL  Sc.  V. 


70 


80 


Mai.  I  extend  my  hand  to  him  thus,  quenching  my 
famihar  smile  with  an  austere  regard  of  con- 
trol,— 

Sir  To.  And  does  not  Toby  take  you  a  blow  o'  the 
lips  then. 

Mai,  Saying,  '  Cousin  Toby,  my  fortunes  having 
cast  me  on  your  niece  give  me  this  prerogative 
of  speech,' — 

Sir  To.  What,  what? 

Mai.  *  You  must  amend  your  drunkenness.' 

Sir  To.  Out,  scab ! 

Fab,  Nay,  patience,  or  we  break  the  sinews  of  our  plot. 

Mai.  '  Besides,  you  waste  the  treasure  of  your  time 
with  a  foolish  knight,' — 

Sir  And.  That  's  me,  I  warrant  you. 

Mai.  '  One  Sir  Andrew,' — 

Sir  And.  I  know  'twas  I ;  for  many  do  call  me  fool. 

Mai.  What  employment  have  we  here  ? 

[Taking  up  the  letter. 

Fab.  Now  is  the  woodcock  near  the  gin. 

Sir  To.  O,  peace !  and  the  spirit  of  humours  inti- 
mate reading  aloud  to  him.  ^ 

Mai.  By  my  life,  this  is  my  lady's  hand ;  these  be  her  /ix 
very  C's,  her  U's,  and  her  T's;  and  thus  makes  ^  ^. 
she  her  great  P's.  It  is,  in  contempt  of  ques-  /  go 
tion,  her  hand. 

Sir  And.  Her  C's,  her  U's,  and  her  T's:   why  that? 


Mai.   [reads']   To  the  unknown  beloved,  this,  and  my     (oy  ^a^  L 

good    wishes  : — her    very    phrases  !     By    your  - 

leave,  wax.     Soft !   and  the  impressure  her  \j\>4^fi,.  ,^ 
crece,  with  which  she  uses  to  seal :   'tis  my  lady.      ou..tA-ej) 
To  whom  should  this  be? 
61 


OU..tA^^ 


Act  II.  Sc.  V.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Fah,  This  wins  him,  Hver  and  all. 
Mai.   [reads]  Jove  knows  I  love : 

But  who?  lOO 

Lips  do  not  move ; 
No  man  must  know. 
*  No  man  must  know.'  What  follows?  the  num- 
bers altered !     '  No  man  must  know  ' :     if  this 
should  be  thee,  Malvolio  ? 
Sir  To.  Marry,  hang  thee,  brock ! 
Mai.   [Reads]     I  may  command  where  I  adore; 
But  silence,  like  a  Lucrece  knife. 
With  bloodless  stroke  my  heart  doth  gore : 
M,  O,  A,  I,  doth  sway  my  life.  i  lo 

Fah.  A  fustian  riddle ! 
Sir  To.  Excellent  wench,  say  1. 
Mai  '  M,  O,  A,  I,  doth  sway  my  life.'       Nay,  but 

first,  let  me  see,  let  me  see,  let  me  see. 
Fab,  What  dish  o'  poison  has  she  dressed  him ! 
^^  Sir  To.  And^ith  what  wing  the"^^^rchecks  at  it! 
^-'^MoL'  I  may  command  where  I  adore.'     Why,  she 
^  "M^^-^^^     may  command  me ;  I  serve  her ;  she  is  my  lady. 
^  aJ^(^u>    Why,   this   is   evident  to   any   formal   capacity; 
t^  ^//^[^    there  is  no  obstruction  in  this:    and  the  end, —  120 
>\^;a-*  ^  what  should  that  alphabetical  position  portend? 

^  lu^^  ^^  ^  could  make  that  resemble  something  in  me, 

Softly!    M,  O,  A,  I, 


(I  ,v^Sir  To.  O,  ay^^rnake  up  that :  he  is  now  at  a  cold  scent. 
Fah.  p^Nt^%\\\  cry  upon  't  for  all  this,  though  it  be 
tjL>^',  as  rank  as  a  fox. 

•  ■f^'^^     ^^^'  ■^^' — Malvolio  ;  M, — why,  that  begins  my  name. 
.  ^jJ"^    Fab.  Did  not  I  say  he  would  work  it  out?  the  cur  is 

^  excellent  at  faults. 

63 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  H.  Sc.  v. 

Mai.  M, — but  then  there  is  no  consonancy  in   the  130 
sequel ;   that  suffers  under  probation  :   A  should 
follow,  but  O  does. 

Fah,  And  O  shall  end,  I  hope. 

Sir  To.  Ay,  or  I  '11  cudgel  him,  and  make  him  cry  O ! 

Mai.  And  then  I  comes  behind. 

Fah.  Ay,  an  you  had  any  eye  behind  you,  you  might 
see  more  detraction  at  your  heels  than  fortunes 
before  you. 

Mai.  M,    O,   A,    I;   this   simulation   is   not    as    the 

former :  and  yet,  to  crush  this  a  little,  it  would  140 
bow  to  me,  for  every  one  of  these  letters  are 
in  my  name.  Soft !  here  follows  prose. 
[Reads^^  If  this  fall  into  thy  hand,  revolve.  In 
my  stars  I  am  above  thee ;  but  be  not  afraid  of 
greatness :  some  are  born  great,  some  achieve 
greatness,  and  some  have  greatness  thrust  upon 
'em.  Thy  Fates  open  their  hands ;  let  thy 
blood  and  spirit  embrace  them;  and,  to  inure 
thyself  to  what  thou  art  like  to  be,  cast  thy 
humble  slough  and  appear  fresh.  Be  opposite  150 
with  a  kinsman,  surly  with  servants ;  let  thy 
tongue  tang  arguments  of  state  ;  put  thyself  into 
the  trick  of  singularity:  she  thus  advises  thee 
that  sighs  for  thee.  Remember  who  commended 
thy  yellow  stockings,  and  wished  to  see  thee  ever 
cross-gartered:  I  say,  remember.  Go  to,  thou 
art  made,  if  thou  desirest  to  be  so ;  if  not,  let 
me  see  thee  a  steward  still,  the  fellow  of  servants, 
and  not  worthy  to  touch  Fortune's  fingers.  Fare- 
well. She  that  would  alter  services  with  thee,  160 
The  Fortunate-Unhappy. 

63 


^4^' 


i^j!*^;. 


Act  II.  Sc.  V. 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Daylight  and  champain  discovers  not  more :  this 
is  open.     I  will  be  proud,   I  will  read  politic 


170 


180 


authors,  I  will  gaffi^  SiVToby,  J  will  wash  off 
gross  acquaintance,  I  will  be  point-devise  the 
very  man.  I  do  not  now  fool  myself,  to  let 
imagination  jade  me  ;  for  every  reason  excites  to 
this,  that  my  lady  loves  me.  She  did  commend 
my  yellow  stockings  of  late,  she  did  praise  my 
leg_being  cross-gartered.;.,  .and  in  this  "she  mani- 
iiests  herself  to  my  love,  and. with  a, kind,  of  in- 
junction drives  me  to  these  habits  of  her  liking. 
I  thank  my  stars  I  am  happy.  I  will  be  strange, 
stout,  in  yellow  stockings,  and  crqss-gartered, 
even  with  the  swiftness  of  putting  oriiS  Jove  and 
my  stars  be  praised!  Here  is  yet  a  postscript. 
[Reads^  Thou  canst  not  choose  but  know  who  I 
am.  If  thou  entertainest  my  love,  let  it  appear  in 
thy  smiling ;  thy  smiles  become  thee  well ;  there- 
fore in  my  presence  still  smile,  dear  my  sweet,  I 
prithee.  Jove,  I  thank  thee  :  I  will  smile ;  I  will 
do  everything  that  thou  wilt  have  me.  {Exit. 

Fab.  I  will  not  give  my  part  of  this  sport  for  a  pen- 
sion of  thousands  to  be  paid  from  the  Sogjiy. 

Sir  To.  I  could  marry  this  wench  for  this  device, — 

Sir  And.  So  could  I  too. 

Sir  To.  And  ask  no  other  dowry  with  her  but  such 
another  jest. 

Sir  And.  Nor  I  neither. 

Fab.  Here  comes  my  noble  gull-catcher.  190 

f.   ^  Re-enter  Maria. 

^\]/^^ftr  T^Wilt  thou  set  thv  foot  o'  my  neck? 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IH.  Sc.  i. 

Sir  And.  Or  o*  mine  either  ? 

Sir  To.  Shall  I  play  my  freedom  at  tray-trip,  and 
become  thy  bond-slave? 

Sir  And.  V  faith,  or  I  either? 

Sir  To.  Why,  thou  hast  put  him  in  such  a  dream, 
that  when  the  image  of  it  leaves  him  he  must 
run  mad. 

Mar.  Nay,  but  say  true :   does  it  work  upon  him  ? 

Sir  To,  Like  aqua-vitae  with  a  midwife.  200 

Mar.  If  you  wilTthen  see  the  fruits  of  the  sport, 
mark  his  first  approach  before  my  lady :  he  will 
come  to  her  in  yellow  stockings,  and  'tis  a 
colour  she  abhors,  and  cross-gartered,  a  fashion 
she  detests ;  and  he  will  smile  upon  her,  which 
will  now  be  so  unsuitable  to  her  disposition,  be- 
ing addicted  to  a  melancholy  as  she  is,  that  it 
cannot  but  turn  him  into  a  notable  contempt.  If 
you  will  see  it,  follow  me. 

Sir  To.  To  the  gates  of  Tartar,  thou  most  excellent  210 
devil  of  wit ! 

Sir  And.  I  '11  make  one  too.  [Exeunt. 


ACT   THIRD. 


Olivia's  garden. 

'Enter  Viola  and  Clozvn  with  a  tabor. 

Vio,  Save  thee,   friend,  and  thy  music:    dost  thou 

live  by  thy  tabor? 
Clo.  No,  sir,  I  live  by  the  church. 
Vio.  Art  thou  a  churchman  ! 

65 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Clo.  No  such  matter,  sir:    I  do  live  by  the  church; 

for  I  do  Hve  at  my  house,  and  my  house  doth 

stand  by  the  church. 
Vio.  So  thou  mayst  say,  the  king  Hes  by  a  beggar, 

if  a  beggar   dwell   near   him;   or,   the   church 

stands  by  thy  tabor,  if  thy  tabor  stand  by  the     lo 

church. 
^      Clo.  You  have  said,  sir.     To  see  this  age!     A  sen- 
1^^'"   tence  is  but  a  ch^veril  glove  to  a  good  wit: 

how   quickly   the   wrong    side   may   be   turned 

outward ! 
Vio.  Nay,  that 's  certain ;  they  that  dally  nicely  with 

words  may  quickly  make  them  wanton. 
Clo.  I  would,  therefore,  my  sister  had  had  no  name, 

sir. 
Fw.  Why,  man?  20 

Clo.  Why,  sir,  her  name  's  a  word;  and  to  dally  with 

that  word  might  make  my  sister  wanton.     But 

indeed  words  are  very  rascals  since  t^nds  dis- 
graced them. 
Vio.  Thy  reason,  man  ? 
Clo.  Troth,  sir,  I  can  yield  you  none  without  words ; 

and  words  are  grown  so  false,  I  am  loath  to 

prove  reason  with  them. 
Vio.  I  warrant  thou  art  a  merry  fellow  and  carest  for 

nothing.  30 

Clo.  Not  so,  sir,  I  do  care  for  something ;   but  in  my 

conscience,  sir,  I  do  not  care  for  you :   if  that  be 

to  care  for  nothing,  sir,  I  would  it  would  make 

you  invisible. 
Vio.  Art  not  thou  the  Lady  Olivia's  fool  ? 
Clo.  No,  indeed,  sir ;   the  Lady  Olivia  has  no  folly : 

66 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  i. 

she  will  keep  no  fool,  sir,  till  she  be  married; 
and  fools  are  as  like  husbands  as  pilchards  are  to 
herrings ;  the  husband  's  the  bigger :  I  am  in- 
deed not  her  fool,  but  her  corrupter  of  words.  40 

Vio,  I  saw  thee  late  at  the  Count  Orsino's. 

Clo.  Foolery,  sir,  does  walk  about  the  orb  like  the 
sun,  it  shines  everywhere.  I  would  be  sorry, 
sir,  but  the  fool  should  be  as  oft  with  your  master 
as  with  my  mistress  :  I  think  I  saw  your  wisdom 
there. 

Vio.  Nay,  an  thou  pass  upon  me,  I  '11  no  more  with 
thee.    Hold,  there  's  expenses  for  thee. 

Clo.  Now  Jove,  in  his  next  comrnodity  of  hair,  send 

tHee^  a  bear3"r  """^  50 

Vio.  By  my  troth,  I  '11  tell  thee,  I  am  almost  sick  for 
one;  [Aside]  though  I  would  not  have  it  grow 
on  my  chin.     Is  thy  lady  within? 

Clo.  Would  not  a  pair  of  these  have  bred,  sir  ? 

Vio.  Yes,  being  kept  together  and  put  to  use. 

Clo.  I  would  play  Lord  Pandarus  of  Phrygia,  sir,  to 
bring  a  Cressida  to  this  Troilus. 

Vio.  I  understand  you,  sir ;  'tis  well  begged. 

Clo.  The  matter,  I  hope,  is  not  great,  sir,  begging 

but  a  beggar :   Cressida  was  a  beggar.    My  lady     60 
is  within,  sir.     I  will  construe  to  them  whence 
you  come ;  who  you  are  and  what  you  would  are 
out  of  my  welkin,  I  might  say  '  element,'  but  the 
word  is  over-worn.  [Exit. 

Vio.  This  fellow  is  wise  enough  to  play  the  fool ; 
And  to  do  that  well  craves  a  kind  of  wit : 
He  must  observe  their  mood  on  whorr*  he  jests, 
♦  The  quality  of  persons,  and  the  time^ 

^7 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

And,  like  the  haggard,  check  at  every  feather 

That  comes  before  his  eye.    This  is  a  practice  70 

As  full  of  labour  as  a  wise  man's  art : 

For  folly  that  he  wisely  shows  is  fit ; 

But  wise  men,  f  olly-f  all'n,  quite  taint  their  wit. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Sir  AndreziK 
Sir  To.  Save  you,  gentleman. 

ir     ^SirAnd.  Dieu  vous  garde,  monsieur. 

^ipf^    Vio.  Et  vous  aussi ;  votre  serviteur. 

^*     Sir  And.  I  hope,  sir,  you  are ;  and  I  am  yours. 

\^       Sir  To.  Will  you  encounter  the  house  ?   my  niece  is 

desirous  you  should  enter,  if  your  trade  be  to     80 
her. 
Vio.  I  am  bound  to  your  niece,  sir ;  I  mean,  she  is  the 

list  of  my  voyage. 
Sir  To.  Taste  your  legs,  sir ;  put  them  to  motion. 
Vio.  My  legs  do  better  understand  me,  sir,  than  I 
understand  what  you  mean  by  bidding  me  taste 
my  legs. 
Sir  To.  I  mean,  to  go,  sir,  to  enter. 
Vio.  I  will  answer  you  with  gait  and  entrance. 

But  we  are  prevented.  90 

Enter  Olivia  and  Maria. 

Most  excellent  accomplished  lady,  the  heavens 

rain  odours  on  you ! 
Sir  And.  That    youth's    a    rare    courtier:     'Rain 

odours ' ;    well. 
Vio.  My  matter  hath  no  voice,  lady,  but  to  your  own 

most  pregnant  and  vouchsafed  ear. 

68 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  i. 

Sir  And.  'Odours,'    'pregnant,'    and    'vouchsafed': 
I  '11  get  'em  all  three  all  ready. 

OH.  Let  the  garden  door  be  shut,  and  leave  me  to 

my  hearing.   [Exeunt  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  loo 
Maria.']     Give  me  your  hand,  sir. 

Vio.  Aly  duty,  madam,  and  most  humble  service. 

Oli.  What  is  your  name? 

Vio.  Cesario  is  your  servant's  name,  fair  princess. 

OIL  My  servant,  sir !    'Twas  never  merry  world 
Since  lowly  feigning  was  call'd  compliment : 
You  're  servant  to  the  Count  Orsino,  youth. 

Vio.  And  he  is  yours,  and  his  must  needs  be  yours : 
Your  servant's  servant  is  your  servant,  madam. 

Oli.  For  him,  I  think  not  on  him  :  for  his  thoughts,       no 
Would  they  were  blanks,  rather  than  filled  with  me ! 

Vio.  Madam,  I  come  to  whet  your  gentle  thoughts 
On  his  behalf. 

Oli.  O,  by  your  leave,  I  pray  you  ; 

I  bade  you  never  speak  again  of  him  : 
But,  would  you  undertake  another  suit, 
I  had  rather  hear  you  to  solicit  that 
Than  music  from  the  spheres. 

Vio.  Dear  lady, — 

Oli.  Give  me  leave,  beseech  you.    I  did  send, 
After  the  last  enchantment  you  did  here, 
A  ring  in  chase  of  you  ;  so  did  I  abuse  120 

Myself,  my  servant  and,  I  fear  me,  you : 
Under  your  hard  construction  must  I  sit, 
To  force  that  on  you,  in  a  shameful  cunning, 
Which  you  knew  none  of  yours :    what  might  you 

think  ? 
Have  you  not  set  mine  honour  at  the  stake 

69 


Act  III.  Sc.  i.        —t^      TWELFTH  NIGHT ; 

And  baited  it  with  all  the  unmuzzled  thoughts 
That  tyrannous  heart  can  think?     To  one  of  your 

receiving 
Enough  is  shown  ;  a  cypress,  not  a  bosom, 
Hides  my  heart.     So,  let  me  hear  you  speak. 

Vio.  I  pity  you. 

Oil.  That's  a  degree  to  love.  130 

Vio.  No,  not  a  grize ;   for  'tis  a  vulgar  proof, 
That  very  oft  we  pity  enemies. 

Oli.  Why,  then,  methinks  'tis  time  to  smile  again. 

0  world,  how  apt  the  poor  are  to  be  proud ! 
If  one  should  be  a  prey,  how  much  the  better 
To  fall  before  the  lion  than  the  wolf ! 

\Cloc'k  strikes. 
The  clock  upbraids  me  with  the  waste  of  time. 
Be  not  afraid,  good  youth,  I  will  not  have  you : 
And  yet,  when  wit  and  youth  is  come  to  harvest, 
Your  wife  is  like  to  reap  a  proper  man ;  140 

Their  lies  your  way,  due  west. 

Vio.  Then  westward-ho ! 

Grace  and  good  disposition  attend  your  ladyship !  r^,, 
You  '11  nothing,  madam,  to  my  lord  by  me ?     ,,  ^^,^^  j^j 

OIL  Stay: 

1  prithee,  tell  me  what  thou  think'st  of  me. 
Vio.  That  you  do  think  you  are  not  what  you  are. 
Oli.  If  I  think  so,  I  think  the  same  of  you. 

Vio.  Then  think  you  right :  I  am  not  what  I  am. 

OH.  I  would  you  were  as  I  would  have  you  be ! 

Vio.  Would  it  be  better,  madam,  than  I  am  ?  150 

I  wish  it  might,  for  now  I  am  your  fool. 
Oli.  O,  what  a  deal  of  scorn  looks  beautiful 

In  the  contempt  and  anger  of  his  lip ! 

70 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  ii. 

A  murderous  guilt  shows  not  itself  more  soon 

Than  love  that  would  seem  hid :  love's  night  is  noon. 

Cesario,  by  the  roses  of  the  spring, 

By  maidhood,  honour,  truth  and  every  thing, 

I  love  thee  so,  that,  maugre  all  thy  pride, 

Nor  wit  nor  reason  can  my  passion  hide. 

Do  not  extort  thy  reasons  from  this  clause,  i6o 

For  that  I  w^oo,  thou  therefore  hast  no  cause ; 

But  rather  reason  thus  with  reason  fetter. 

Love  sought  is  good,  but  given  unsought  is  better. 
Vio.  By  innocence  I  swear,  and  by  my  youth, 

I  have  one  heart,  one  bosom  and  one  truth. 

And  that  no  woman  has  ;  nor  never  none 

Shall  mistress  be  of  it,  save  I  alone. 

And  so  adieu,  good  madam :   never  more 

Will  I  my  master's  tears  to  you  deplore. 
OH.  Yet  come  again  ;   for  thou  perhaps  mayst  move     170 

That  heart,  which  now  abhors,  to  like  his  love. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  IL      ^-  dt^^MJiU'  (fluccK^- 

Olivias  house.    ^^^  ^^^r^"  ^^^  UKcQ 

Enter  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andreuu,  and  Fabian.     ) 

Sir  And.  No,  faith,  I  '11  not  stay  a  jot  longer. 
Sir  To.  Thy  reason,  dear  venom,  give  thy  reason. 
Fab.  You  must  needs  yield  your  reason,  Sir  Andrew. 
Sir  And.  Marry,  I  saw  your  niece  do  more  favours  to 

the  count's  serving-man  than  ever  she  bestowed 

upon  me ;  I  saw  't  i'  the  orchard. 
Sir  To.  Did  she  see  thee  the  while,  old  boy  ?  tell  me 

that. 

71 


Act  III.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Sir  And.  As  plain  as  I  see  you  now. 

Fab.  This  was  a  great  argument  of  love  in  her  to-     lo 
ward  you. 

Sir  And.  'Slight,  will  you  make  an  ass  o'  me  ? 

Fab.  I  will  prove  it  legitimate,  sir,  upon  the  oaths  of 
judgement  and  reason. 

Sir  To.  And  they  have  been  grand- jurymen  since 
before  Noah  was  a  sailor. 

Fab.  She  did  show  favour  to  the  youth  in  your  sight 
only  to  exasperate  you,  to  awake  your  dormouse 
valour,  to  put  fire  in  your  heart,  and  brimstone  in 
your  liver.  You  should  then  have  accosted  her ;  20 
and  with  some  excellent  jests,  fire-new  from  the 
mint,  you  ^lould  have  banged  the  youth  into 
dumbness.  pThis  was  looked  for  at  your  hand, 
and  this  was  balked :    the  double  gilt  of  this 

^".•^opportunity  yo^  let  time  ^yash  off,  and  you  are 
^^^^        now  sailed  into  fc' riortti  of  my  lady's  opinion; 
where  you  will  hang  like  an  icicle  on  a  Dutch- 
man's beard^  unless  you  do  redeem  it  by  some 
laudable  attempt  either  of  valour  or  policy. 

Sir  And.  An  't  be  any  way,  it  must  be  with  valour  p    foj^j' 

for  policv  I  hate  :   I  had  as  Hef  be  a  Brownist  asV         '-^ 

,.  .  .'  kKO> 

a  politician. 

Sir  To.  Why,  then,  build  me  thy  fortunes  upon  the 
basis  of  valour.  Challenge  me  the  count's 
youth  to  fight  with  him;  hurt  him  in  eleven 
places :  my  niece  shall  take  note  of  it ;  and 
assure  thyself,  there  is  no  love-broker  in  the 
world  can  more  prevail  in  man's  commendation 
with  w^oman  than  report  of  valour. 

Fab.  There  is  no  way  but  this,  Sir  Andrew.  40 

72 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  III.  Sc.  ii. 

Sir  And.  Will  either  of  you  bear  me  a  challenge  to 
him? 

Sir  To.  Go,  write  it  in  a  martial  hand ;  be  curst  and 
brief ;  it  is  no  matter  how  witty,  so  it  be  eloquent 
and  full  of  invention :  taunt  him  with  the  license 
of  ink :  if  thou  thou  'st  him  some  thrice,  it  shall 
not  be  amiss ;  and  as  many  lies  as  will  lie  in 
thy  sheet  of  paper,  although  the  sheet  were  big 
enough  for  the  bed  of  Ware  in  England,  set  'em 
down :  go,  about  it.  Let  there  be  gall  enough  in  50 
thy  ink,  though  thou  write  with  a  goose-pen,  no 
matter:  about  it. 

Sir  And.  Where  shall  I  find  you  ? 

Sir  To.  We  '11  call  thee  at  the  cubiculo :  go. 

[Exit  Sir  Andrew. 

Fab.  This  is  a  dear  manakiiito  you,  Sir  Toby. 

Sir  To.  1   have  been    dear   to   him^   lad,    snmf^   j-wn    t* 
thousand  strong,  or  so.  ' 

Fab.  We  shall  have  a  rare   letter  from  him :    but 
you  '11  not  deliver  't? 

Sir  To.  Never  trust  me,  then ;  and  by  all  means  60 
stir  on  the  youth  to  an  answer.  I  think  oxen 
and  wainropes  cannot  hale  them  together.  For 
Andrew,  if  he  were  opened,  and  you  find  so 
much  blood  in  his  liver  as  will  clog  the  foot  of  a 
flea,  I  '11  eat  the  rest  of  the  anatomy. 

Fab.  And  his  opposite,  the  youth,  bears  in  his  visage 
no  great  presage  of  cruelty. 

Enter  Maria. 
Sir  To.  Look,    where    the    youngest    wren    of    nine 


Act  III.  Sc.iii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Mar.  If  you  desire  the  spleen,  and  will  laugh  your-  70 
selves  into  stitches,  follow  me.  Yond  gull 
Malvolio  is  turned  heathen,  a  very  renegado; 
for  there  is  no  Christian,  that  means  to  be  saved 
by  believing  rightly,  can  ever  believe  such  im- 
possible passages  of  grossness.  He  's  in  yellow 
stockings. 
Sir  To.  And  cross-gartered? 

Mar.  Most   villanously ;     like   a   pedant   that   keeps 

a  school  i'   the  church.      I   have  dogged  him, 

like  his  murderer.     He  does  obey  every  point     80 

.  v^..^  '-  of  the  letter  that  I  dropped  to  betray  him:    he 

Jji  ^«ii-|  "^^does  smile  his  face  into  more  lines  than  is  in 

^  |j^,     .         tTie   new    map   with   the   augmentation    of    the 

IT  I -6  i  '  •      Indies:    you  have  not  seen  such  a  thing  as  'tis. 

A       A  'O-.T  can  hardly  forbear  hurling  things  at  him.     I 

0  ^  ^(ajT^^^^y-  ^y  ^^^y  ^^^^^  strike  him :   if  she  do,  he  '11 

■^AijJ    smile  and  take  't  for  a  great  favour. 

1  I.  A  •  VS'ir  To.  Come,  bring  us,  bring  us  where  he  is.        \_Exeunt. 

.    /I    fiCi      r  l^iny  A  street.  U^r.  ^^^^^'^^  - 

Qm/ouO  ^l^iwASl^  Sebastian  and  Antonio,   '^'c.J^^  M-^^^ 

Seh.  I  would  not  By  my  will  have  troubled  you ;    '*^^    ^ 
But,  since  you  make  your  pleasure  of  your  pains, 
I  will  no  further  chide  you. 

Ant.  I  cou)d  not  stay  behind  you :   my  desire. 

More  sharp  than  filed  steel,  did  spur  me  forth ; 
And  not  all  love  to  see  you,  though  so  much 
As  might  have  drawn  one  to  a  longer  voyage, 
But  jealousy  what  might  befall  your  travel, 
Bj^^iuti^  ^  74 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  iii. 

Being  skilless  in  these  parts ;   which  to  a  stranger, 
Unguided  and  unfriended,  often  prove  lo 

Rough  and  unhospitable  :  my  wilhng  love, 
The  rather  by  these  arguments  of  fear. 
Set  forth  in  your  pursuit. 

Sch.  My  kind  Antonio, 

I  can  no  other  answer  make  but  thanks, 
And  thanks ;  and  ever  [thanks,  and]  oft  good  turns 
Are  shuffled  off  with  such  uncurrent  pay : 
But,  were  my  worth  as  is  my  conscience  firm. 
You  should  find  better  dealing.    What 's  to  do  ? 
Shall  we  go  see  the  reliques  of  this  town  ? 

Ant.  To-morrow,  sir  :  best  first  go  see  your  lodging.       20 

Seh.  I  am  not  weary,  and  'tis  long  to  night : 
I  pray  you,  let  us  satisfy  our  eyes 
With  the  memorials  and  the  things  of  fame 
That  do  renown  this  city. 

Ant.  Would  you  'Id  pardon  me ; 

I  do  not  without  danger  walk  these  streets : 
Once,  in  a  sea-fight,  'gainst  the  count  his  galleys 
I  did  some  service  ;  of  such  note  indeed. 
That  were  I  ta'en  here  it  would  scarce  be  answered. 

Seh.  Belike  you  slew  great  number  of  his  people. 

Ant.  The  offence  is  not  of  such  a  bloody  nature ;  30 

Albeit  the  quality  of  the  time  and  quarrel 
Might  well  have  given  us  bloody  argument. 
It  might  have  since  been  answer'd  in  repaying 
What  we  took  from  them ;   which,  for  traffic's  sake, 
Most  of  our  city  did  :  only  myself  stood  out ; 
For  which,  if  I  be  lapsed  in  this  place, 
I  shall  pay  dear. 

Sch.  Do  not  then  walk  too  open. 

75 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv,  TWELFTH  NIGHT ; 

A)it.  It  doth  not  fit  me.    Hold,  sir,  here  's  my  purse. 
In  the  south  suburbs,  at  the  Elephant, 
Is  best  to  lodge :   I  will  bespeak  our  diet,  40 

Whiles  you  beguile  the  time  and  feed  your  knowledge 
With  viewing  of  the  town :  there  shall  you  have  me. 

Seb.  Why  I  your  purse  ? 

Ant.  Haply  your  eye  shall  light  upon  some  toy 
You  have  desire  to  purchase ;  and  your  store, 
I  think,  is  not  for  idle  markets,  sir. 

Seb.  I  '11  be  your  purse-bearer  and  leave  you 
For  an  hour. 

Ant.  To  the  Elephant. 

Seb,  I  do  remember.   [Exeunt. 

"^'^"f^  f^^c^<^  Scene   IV. 

^W^4^^.^      ^      Olnnas  garden. 
lccceA£^^  '' C^^^Cj2e^_^^Enter  Olkna  and  Maria, 

Vt't^aiJ    ^^^'  ^  ^^^^  ^^^^  after  him  :  he  says  he  '11  come ; 
^   J.        How  shall  I  feast  him  ?  what  bestow  of  him  ? 
Z^^^        For  youth  is  bought  more  oft  than  begg'd  or  bor- 
row'd. 
I  speak  too  loud. 

Where  is  Malvolio?  he  is  sad  and  civil. 
And  suits  well  for  a  servant  with  my  fortunes : 
Where  is  Malvolio? 
Mar.  He  's   coming,   madam ;    but   in   very   strange 

manner.    He  is,  sure,  possessed,  madam. 
OIL  Why,  what 's  the  matter?  does  he  rave?  10 

Mar.  No,  madam,  he  does  nothing  but  smile:  your 
ladyship  were  best  to  have  some  guard  about 
you,  if  he  come;  for,  sure,  the  man  is  tainted 
in  's  wits. 

76 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  iv. 

Oli.  Go  call  him  hither.     [Exit  Maria.^    I  am  as  mad 
as  he, 
If  sad  and  merry  madness  equal  be. 

Re-enter  Maria,  with  Malvolio. 

How  now,  Malvolio ! 

Mai.  Sweet  lady,  ho,  ho. 

OH.  Smilest  thou? 

I  sent  for  thee  upon  a  sad  occasion.  20 

Mai.  Sad,  lady?  I  could  be  sad:  this  does  make 
some  obstruction  in  the  blood,  this  cross- 
gartering;  but  what  of  that?  if  it  please  the 
eye  of  one,  it  is  with  me  as  the  very  true  sonnet 
is,  '  Please  one,  and  please  all.' 

Oli.  Why,  how  dost  thou,  man?  what  is  the  matter 
with  thee  ? 

Mai.  Not  black  in  my  mind,  though  yellow  in  my 
legs.     It  did  come  to  his  hands,  and  commands 
shall   be   executed :    I   think   we   do   know   the     30 
sweet  Roman  hand. 

Oli.  Wilt  thou  go  to  bed,  Malvolio? 

Mai.  To  bed !  ay,  sweet-heart,  and  I  '11  come  to 
thee. 

Oli.  God  comfort  thee!  Why  dost  thou  smile  so 
and  kiss  thy  hand  so  oft  ? 

Mar.  How  do  you,  Malvolio? 

Mai.  At  your  request!  yes;  nightingales  answer 
daws. 

Mar.  Why  appear  you  with  this  ridiculous  boldness     40 
before  my  lady  ? 

Mai.  '  Be  not  afraid  of  greatness  ' :  'twas  well  writ. 

Oli.  What  meanest  thou  by  that,  Malvolio? 

77 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  ,  TWELFTH  NIGHT ; 

Mai.  '  Some  are  bom  great,' — 

OIL  Ha! 

Mai.  '  Some  achieve  greatness/ — 

Oil,  What  say  est  thou  ? 

Mai.  '  Aijd  some  have  greatness  thrust  upon  them/ 

on.  Heaven  restore  thee ! 

Mai.  '  Remember     who     commended     thy     yellow     50 

stockings/ — 
Oli.  Thy  yellow  stockings ! 
Mai.  '  And  wished  to  see  thee  cross-gartered/ 
Oli.  Cross-gartered! 
Mai.  '  Go  to,  thou  art  made,  if  thou  desirest  to  be 

so'; — 
OIL  Am  I  made  ? 

Mai.  '  If  not,  let  me  see  thee  a  servant  still/ 
Oli.  Why,  this  is  very  midsummer  madness. 

Enter  servant. 

Ser.  Madam,   the   young   gentleman   of   the    Count     60 
Orsino's    is     returned :      I    could    hardly    en- 
treat   him    back :     he    attends    your    ladyship's 
pleasure. 
OIL  I  '11    come    to    him.      [Exit    Servant.']      Good 
-^    Maria,  let  this   fellow  be  looked  to.     Where's 
^  ^     A     my    cousin    Toby  ?      Let    some    of    my    people 
CN  gP  vM-^ '   have  a  special  care  of  him :    I_would  not  have 
^j^jiJi^  him  miscarry  for  the  half  of  my  dowry. 

^'^^^^"'^^jj^i         "  "■'^ \;Exeiint  Olivia  and  Maria. 

^      .rs  Mai.  O,  ho !    do  you  come  near  me  now  ?   no  worse 
c)    ^  man  than  Sir  Toby  to  look  to  me !    This  concurs     yq 

\S^^  directly  with  the  letter :  she  sends  him  on  purpose, 

t  that  I  may  appear  stubborn  to  him ;  for  she  incites 

.      78 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  iv. 

me  to  that  in  the  letter.  '  Cast  thy  humble  slough,' 
says  she ;  '  be  opposite  with  a  kinsman,  surly 
with  servants ;  let  thy  tongue  tang  with  argu- 
ments of  state ;  put  thyself  into  the  trick  of 
singularity ; '  and  consequently  sets  down  the 
manner  how ;  as,  a  sad  face,  a  reverend  carriage, 
a  slow  tongue,  in  the  habit  of  some  sir  of  note, 
and  so  forth.  I  have  limed  her ;  but  it  is  Jove's  80 
doing,  and  Jove  make  me  thankful !  And  when 
she  went  away  now,  '  Let  this  fellow  be  looked 
to : '  fellow  !  not  Malvolio,  nor  after  my  degree, 
but  fellow.  Why,  every  thing  adheres  together, 
that  no  dram  of  a  scruple,  no  scruple  of  a  scruple, 
no  obstacle,no  incredulous  or  unsafe  circumstance 
— What  can  be  said?  Nothing  that  can  be  can 
come  between  me  and  the  full  prospect  of  my 
hopes.  Well,  Jove,  not  I,  is  the  doer  of  this, 
and  he  is  to  be  thanked.  90 

Re-enter  Maria,  zvith  Sir  Toby  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  Which  way  is  he,  in  the  name  of  sanctity  ? 
If  all  the  devils  of  hell  be  drawn  in  little,  and 
Legion  himself  possessed  him,  yet  I  '11  speak  to 
him. 

Fab.  Here  he  is,  here  he  is.  How  is  't  with  you,  sir  ? 
how  is  't  with  you,  man  ? 

Mai.  Go  off;  I  discard  you:  let  me  enjoy  my  pri- 
vate :  go  off. 

Mar.  Lo,  how  hollow  the  fiend  speaks  within  him ! 

did  not  I  tell  you?     Sir  Toby,  my  lady  prays  100 
you  to  have  a  care  of  him. 

Mai.  Ah,  ha !  does  she  so  ? 

79 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Sir  To.  Go  to,  go  to ;  peace,  peace ;  we  must  deal 
gently  with  him ;  let  me  alone.  How  do  you, 
Malvolio  ?  how  is  't  with  you  ?  What,  man ! 
defy  the  devil :  consider,  he 's  an  enemy  to 
mankind. 

Mai.  Do  you  know  what  you  say  ? 

Mar.  La  you,  an  you  speak  ill  of  the  devil,  how  he 

takes  it  at  heart!     Pray  God,  he  be  not  be-  no 
witched ! 

Fab.  Carry  his  water  to  the  wise  woman. 

Mar.  Marry,  and  it  shall  be  done  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, if  I  live.  My  lady  would  not  lose  him  for 
more  than  I  '11  say. 

Mai.  How  now,  mistress ! 

Mar.  OLord! 

Sir  To.  Prithee,  hold  thy  peace ;  this  is  not  the  way : 
do  you  not  see  you  move  him?  let  me  alone 
with  him.  120 

Fab.  No  way  but  gentleness ;  gently,  gently :  the 
fiend  is  rough,  and  will  not  be  roughly  used. 

Sir  To.  Why,  how  now,  my  bawcock !  how  dost 
thou,  chuck? 

Mai.  Sir! 

Sir  To.  Ay,  Biddy,  come  with  me.  What,  man !  'tis 
not  for  gravity  to  play  at  cherry-pit  with  Satan : 
hang  him,  foul  collier ! 

Mar.  Get  him  to  say  his  prayers,  good  Sir  Toby,  get 

him  to  pray.  130 

Mai.  My  prayers,  minx ! 

Mar.  No,  I  warrant  you,  he  will  not  hear  of  godli- 
ness. 

Mai.  Go,  hang  yourselves  all!    you  are  idle  shallow 

80 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  iv. 

things :    I  am  not   of   your    element :    you  shall 
know  more  hereafter.  [Exit. 

Sir  To.  Is  't  possible? 

Fab.  If  this  were  played  upon  a  stage  now,  I  could 
condemn  it  as  an  improbable  fiction. 

Sir  To.  His  very  genius  hath  taken  the  infection  of  140 
the  device,  man. 

Mar.  Nay,  pursue  him  now,  lest  the  device  take  air 
and  taint. 

Fab.  Why,  we  shall  make  him  mad  indeed. 

Mar.  The  house  will  be  the  quieter. 

Sir  To.  Come,  we  '11  have  him  in  a  dark  room  and 
bound.  My  niece  is  already  in  the  belief  that 
he  's  mad :  w^e  may  carry  it  thus,  for  our  pleas- 
ure and  his  penance,  till  our  very  pastime,  tired 
out  of  breath,  prompt  us  to  have  mercy  on  him :  150 
at  which  time  we  will  bring  the  device  to  the  bar 
and  crown  thee  for  a  finder  of  madmen.  But 
see,  but  see. 


Enter  Sir  Andrew. 

Fab.  More  matter  for  a  May  morning.  -Ci^uu  'i^A 

Sir  And.  Here's  the  challenge,  read  it:    I  warrant    /jW&^^A 

there  's  vinegar  and  pepper  in  't.  ^  <SijMp\SuJd 

Fab.  Is  't  so  saucy  ?  0     "y  ^ 

Sir  And.  Ay,  is  't,  I  warrant  him  :   do  but  read.  /Klo^  tkM 

Sir  To.  Give  me.     [Reads]    Youth,  whatsoever  thou       "" 

art,  thou  art  but  a  scurvy  fellow.  160 

Fab.  Good,  and  valiant. 
Sir  To.   [Reads]   Wonder  not,  nor  admire  not  in  thy 

mind,  why  I  do  call  thee  so,  for  I  will  show 

thee  no  reason  for  't. 

81 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Fah.  A  good  note ;  that  keeps  you  from  the  blow  of 
the  law. 

Sir  To.  [Reads]  Thou  comest  to  the  lady  Olivia,  and 
in  my  sight  she  uses  thee  kindly :  but  thou  liest 
in  thy  throat ;  that  is  not  the  matter  I  challenge 
thee  for.  170 

Fab.  Very  brief,  and  to  exceeding  good  sense — less. 

Sir  To.  [Reads]  I  will  waylay  thee  going  home; 
where  if  it  be  thy  chance  to  kill  me, — 

Fab.  Good. 

Sir  To.  [Reads]  Thou  killest  me  like  a  rogue  and  a 
villain. 

Fab.  Still. you  keep  o'  the  windy  side  of  the  law: 
good. 

Sir  To.  [Reads]  Fare  thee  well ;  and  God  have  mercy 

upon  one  of  our  souls!  He  may  have  mercy  180 
upon  mine;  but  my  hope  is  better,  and  so 
look  to  thyself.  Thy  friend,  as  thou  usest  him, 
and  thy  sworn  enemy,  Andrew  Aguecheek. 
If  this  letter  move  him  not,  his  legs  cannot: 
I  '11  give  't  him. 

Mar.  You  may  have  very  fit  occasion  for  't :  he  is 
now  in  some  commerce  with  my  lady,  and  will 
by  and  by  depart. 

Sir  To.  Go,  Sir  Andrew ;    scout  me  for  him  at  the 

corner  of  the  orchard  like  a  bum-baily:  so  soon  190 
as  ever  thou  seest  him,  draw ;  and,  as  thou 
drawest,  swear  horrible;  for  it  comes  to  pass 
oft  that  a  terrible  oath,  with  a  swaggering  accent 
sharply  twanged  off,  gives  manhood  more  ap- 
probation than  ever  proof  itself  would  have 
earned  him.    Away! 

82 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  iv. 

Sir  And.  Nay,  let  me  alone  for  swearing.  [Exit. 

Sir  To.  Now  will  not  I  deliver  his  letter :  for  the 
behaviour  of  the  young  gentleman  gives  him  out 
to  be  of  good  capacity  and  breeding;  his  em-  200 
ployment  between  his  lord  and  my  niece  con- 
firms no  less :  therefore  this  letter,  being  so  ex- 
cellently ignorant,  will  breed  no  terror  in  the 
youth :  he  will  find  it  comes  from  a  clodpole. 
But,  sir,  I  will  deliver  his  challenge  by  word  of 
mouth ;  set  upon  Aguecheek  a  notable  report  of 
valour;  and  drive  the  gentleman,  as  I  know  his 
youth  will  aptly  receive  it,  into  a  most  hideous 
opinion  of  his  rage,  skill,  fury  and  impetuosity. 
This  will  so  fright  them  both,  that  they  will  kill  210 
one  another  by  the  look,  like  cockatrices.^^i^,.^>u,.oot'  -^^cc^ 

Re-enter  Olivia,  with  Viola.        f*tr, d^  ulKa 

Fab.  Here  he  comes  with  your  niece :  give  them  ^"  -  y)"^ 
way  till  he  take  leave,  and  presently  after  ^^-^^XjA,"^ 
him.         '  %^cujL  ^ 

Sir  To.  I  will  meditate  the  while  upon  some  horrid        '        ^ 
message  for  a  challenge. 

[Exeunt  Sir  Toby,  Fabian,  and  Maria. 

OH.  I  have  said  too  much  unto  a  heart  of  stone, 
And  laid  mine  honour  too  unchary  out : 
There  's  something  in  me  thaf  reproves  my  fault; 
But  such  a  headstrong  potent  fault  it  is,  220 

That  it  but  mocks  reproof. 

Vio.  With  the  same  'haviour  that  your  passion  bears 
Goes  on  my  master's  grief. 

Oli.  Here,  wear  this  jewel  for  me,  'tis  my  picture; 
Refuse  it  not ;  it  hath  no  tongue  to  vex  you ; 

83 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

And  I  beseech  you  come  again  to-morrow. 

What  shall  you  ask  of  me  that  I  '11  deny, 

That  honour  saved  may  upon  asking  give  ? 
Vio.  Nothing  but  this ; — your  true  love  for  my  master. 
OH.  How  with  mine  honour  may  I  give  him  that  230 

Which  I  have  given  to  you  ? 
Vio.  I  will  acquit  you. 

OH.  Well,  come  again  to-morrow :   fare  thee  well : 

A  fiend  like  thee  might  bear  my  soul  to  hell.     [Exit. 

Re-enter  Sir  Toby  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  Gentleman,  God  save  thee. 

Vio.  And  you,  sir. 

Sir  To.  That  defence  thou  hast,  betake  thee  to 't : 
of  what  nature  the  wrongs  are  thou  hast  done 
him  I  know  not ;  but  thy  intercepter,  full  of 
despite,  bloody  as  the  hunter,  attends  thee  at  j:he 
orchard-end:  dismount  thy  tuck,  be  y^Viri  my^240 
preparation,  for  thy  assailant  is  quick,  skilful 
and  deadly. 

Vio.  You  mistake,  sir ;  I  am  sure  no  man  hath  any 
quarrel  to  me :  my  remembrance  is  very  free 
and  clear  from  any  image  of  offence  done  to  any 
man. 

Sir  To.  You  '11  find  it  otherwise,  I  assure  you :  there- 
fore, if  you  hold  your  life  at  any  price,  betake 
you  to  your  guard;    for  your  opposite  hath  in 
him  what  youth,  strength,  skill  and  wrath  can  250 
furnish  man  withal. 

Vio.  I  pray  you,  sir,  what  is  he?       UiH7\  ■^.■.9l^£^^^-H  ^-^f-^^^^-- 
Sir  To.  He  is  knight,  dubbed  with  unhatched  rapier 
and  on  carpet  consideration :  but  he  is  a  devil  in 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  iv. 

private  brawl :  souls  and  bodies  hath  he  divorced      |  -^  C'--' 
three;  and  his  incensement  at  this  moment  is  so      I  ,^ 

implacable,  that  satisfaction  can  be  none  but  by 
pangs  of  death  and  sepulchre.  Hob,  nob,  is  his 
word;  give  't  or  take  't.    ^ 

Vio.  I  will  return  again  into  the  house  and  desire  260 
some^j:onduct  of  the  lady.     I  am  no  fighter.     I 
have' heard  of  some  kind  of  men  that  put  quar-      j 
rels  purposely  on  others,  to  taste  their  valour:      | 
belike  this  is  a  man  of  that  quirk. 

Sir  To.  Sir,  no ;  his  indignation  derives  itself  out  of 
a  very  competent  injury:  therefore,  get  you  on 
and  give  him  his  desire.  Back  you  shall  not  to 
the  house,  unless  you  undertake  that  with  me 
which  with  as  much  safety  you  might  answer 
him:  therefore,  on,  or  strip  your  sword  stark  270 
naked ;  for  meddle  you  must,  that 's  certain,  or 
forswear  to  wear  iron  about  you. 

Vio.  This  is  as  uncivil  as  strange.  I  beseech  you, 
do  me  this  courteous  office,  as  to  know  of  the 
knight  what  my  offence  to  him  is :  it  is  some- 
thing of  my  negligence,  nothing  of  my  purpose. 

Sir  To.  I  will  do  so.     Signior  Fabian,  stay  you  by 

this  gentleman  till  my  return.  [Exit. 

Vio,  Pray  you,  sir,  do  you  know  of  this  matter? 

Fab.  I  know  the  knight  is  incensed  against  you,  even  280 
to  a  mortal   arbitrement;    but  nothing   of   the 
circumstance  more. 

Vio.  I  beseech  you,  what  manner  of  man  is  he? 

Fah.  Nothing  of  that  wonderful  promise,  to  read 
him  by  his  form,  as  you  are  like  to  find  him  in 
the  proof  of  his  valour.     He  is,  indeed,  sir,  the 

85 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

most  skilful,  bloody  and  fatal  opposite  that  you 
could  possibly  have  found  in  any  part  of  Illyria. 
Will  you  walk  towards  him?  I  will  make  your 
peace  with  him  if  I  can.  290 

J^io.  I  shall  be  much  bound  to  you  for  't:  I  am  one 
that  had  rather  go  with  sir  priest  than  sir 
knight :  I  care  not  who  knows  so  much  of  my 
mettle.  [Exeunt 

Re-enter  Sir  Toby,  zvith  Sir  Andrezv. 


To.  Why,  man,  he^'s  a  very  devil;    I 
seen  such  a,.nrag;o. '  I  had  a  pass  with  hi 


have  not 
pass  with  him,  rapier, 
scabbard  and  all,  and  he  gives  me  the  stuck  in 
with  such  a  mortal  motion,  that  it  is  inevitable ; 
and  on  the  answer,  he  pays  you  as  surely  as 
your  feet  hit  the  ground  they  step  on.  They  300 
say  he  has  been  fencer  to  the  Sophy. 

Sir  And,  Pox  on  't,  I  '11  not  meddle  with  him. 

Sir  To.  Ay,  but  he  will  not  now  be  pacified :  Fabian 
can  scarce  hold  him  yonder. 

Sir  And.  Plague  on 't,  an  I  thought  he  had  been 
valiant  and  so  cunning  in  fence,  I  'Id  have  seen 
him  damned  ere  I  'Id  have  challenged  him.  Let 
him  let  the  matter  sHp,  and  I  '11  give  him  my 
horse,  grey  Capilet. 

Sir  To.  I'll  make  the  motion:    stand  here,  make  a  310 
good   show   on  't :    this   shall   end   without   the 
perdition  of  souls.      [Aside]     Marry,  I  '11  ride 
your  horse  as  well  as  I  ride  you. 

Re-enter  Fabian  and  Viola. 

[To  Fab.]  I  have  his  horse  to  take  up  the  quarrel :  I 
have  persuaded  him  the  youth  's  a  devil. 

86 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IIL  Sc.  iv. 

Fab.  He  is  as  horribly  conceited  of  him ;  and  pants 
and  looks  pale,  as  if  a  bear  were  at  his  heels. 

Sir  To.  [To  Vio.]  There's  no  remedy,  sir;  he  will 
fight  with  you  for  's  oath  sake :  marry,  he  hath 
better  bethought  him  of  his  quarrel,  and  he  320 
finds  that  now  scarce  to  he  worth  talking  of: 
therefore  draw,  for  the  supportance  of  his  vow ; 
he  protests  he  will  not  hurt  you. 

Vio.  [aside]  Pray  God  defend  me!  a  little  thing 
would  make  me  tell  them  how  much  I  lack  of  a 
man. 

Fab.  Give  ground,  if  you  see  him  furious. 

Sir  To.  Come,  Sir  Andrew,  there  's  no  remedy ;  the 
gentleman  will,  for  his  honour's  sake,  have  one 
bout  with  you;  he  cannot  by  the  duello  avoid 
it :  but  he  has  promised  me,  as  he  is  a  gentleman  330 
and  a  soldier,  he  will  not  hurt  you.  Come  on; 
to't. 

Sir  And.  Pray  God,  he  keep  his  oath ! 

Vio.  I  do  assure  you,  'tis  against  my  will.        [They  drazu. 

Enter  Antonio.  A^y^<Ajs6  ^wd 

Ant.  Put  up  your  sword.    If  this  young  gentleman 
Have  done  ofifence,  I  take  the  fault  on  me : 
If  you  ofifend  him,  I  for  him  defy  you. 
Sir  To.  You,  sir !   why,  what  are  you  ? 
Ant.  One,  sir,  that  for  his  love  dares  yet  do  more 

Than  you  have  heard  him  brag  to  you  he  will.        340 
Sir  To.  Nay,  if  you  be  an  undertaker,  I  am  for  you. 

[They  draw. 
Enter  Officers. 

Fab.  O  good  Sir  Toby,  hold !   here  come  the  officers. 
Sir  To.  1  '11  be  with  you  anon. 

87 


Act  III.  Sc.  iv.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Vio,  Pray,  sir,  put  your  sword  up,  if  you  please. 
Sir  And.  Marry,  will  I,  sir ;  and,  for  that  I  promised 

you,  I  '11  be  as  good  as  my  word :   he  will  bear 

you  easily  and  reins  well. 
First  Off.  This  is  the  man ;   do  thy  office. 
Sec.  Off.  Antonio,  I  arrest  thee  at  the  suit  of  Count 

Orsino.  350 

Ant.  You  do  mistake  me,  sir. 
First  Off.  No,  sir,  no  jot;   I  know  your  favour  well, 

Though  now  you  have  no  sea-cap  on  your  head. 

Take  him  away :  he  knows  I  know  him  well. 
Ajit.  I  must  obey.      [To  Vio.]     This  comes  with  seeking 

you: 

But  there  's  no  remedy ;   I  shall  answer  it. 

What  will  you  do,  now  my  necessity 

Makes  me  to  ask  you  for  my  purse  ?    It  grieves  me 

Much  more  for  what  I  cannot  do  for  you 

Than  what  befalls  myself.     You  stand  amazed ;     360 

But  be  of  comfort. 

Sec.  Off.  Come,  sir,  away. 

Ant.  I  must  entreat  of  you  some  of  that  money. 

Vio.  W^hat  money,  sir? 

For  the  fair  kindness  you  have  show'd  me  here. 
And,  part,  being  prompted  by  your  present  trouble, 
Out  of  my  lean  and  low  ability 
I  '11  lend  you  something :  my  having  is  not  much ; 
I  '11  make  division  of  my  present  with  you : 
Hold,  there  's  half  my  coffer. 

Ant.  Will  you  deny  me  now?   370 

Is  't  possible  that  my  deserts  to  you 
Can  lack  persuasion  ?    Do  not  tempt  my  misery, 
Lest  that  it  make  me  so  unsound  a  man 
88 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IH.  Sc.  iv. 

As  to  upbraid  you  with  those  kindnesses 

That  I  have  done  for  you. 
Vio.  I  know  of  none ; 

Nor  know  I  you  by  voice  or  any  feature : 

I  hate  ingratitude  more  in  a  man 

Than  lying  vainness,  babbhng  drunkenness, 

Or  any  taint  of  vice  whose  strong  corruption 

Inhabits  our  frail  blood. 
Ant.  O  heavens  themselves  !     380 

Sec.  Off.  Come,  sir,  I  pray  you,  go. 
Ant.  Let  me  speak  a  little.     This  youth  that  you  see  here 

I  snatch'd  one  half  out  of  the  jaws  of  death ; 

Relieved  him  with  such  sanctity  of  love  ; 

And  to  his  image,  which  methought  did  promise 

Most  venerable  worth,  did  I  devotion. 
First  Off.  What 's  that  to  us  !     The  time  goes  by :  away ! 
Ant.  But  O  how  vile  an  idol  proves  this  god ! 

Thou  hast,  Sebastian,  done  good  feature  shame. 

In  nature  there  's  no  blemish  but  the  mind ;  390 

None  can  be  call'd  deform'd  but  the  unkind : 

Virtue  is  beauty ;  but  the  beauteous  evil 

Are  empty  trunks,  o'erflourish'd  by  the  devil. 
First  O  ff.  The  man  grows  mad  :   away  with  him !   Come, 

come,  sir. 
Ant.  Lead  me  on.  [Exit  zvith  Officers. 

Vio.  Methinks  his  words  do  from  such  passion  fly. 

That  he  believes  himself :   so  do  not  I. 

Prove  true,  imagination,  O  prove  true. 

That  I,  dear  brother,  be  now  ta'en  for  you ! 
Sir  To.  Come  hither,  knight ;    come  hither,  Fabian :  400 

we  '11  whisper  o'er  a  couplet  or  two  of  most  sage 

saws. 

89 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Vio,  He  named  Sebastian :   I  my  brother  know 
Yet  living  in  my  glass ;   even  such  and  so 
In  favour  was  my  brother,  and  he  went 
Still  in  this  fashion,  colour,  ornament. 
For  him  I  imitate :  O,  if  it  prove 
Tempests  are  kind  and  salt  waves  fresh  in  love ! 

[Exit. 

Sir  To.  A  very   dishonest  paltry  boy,   and  more  a 

coward  than  a  hare :    his  dishonesty  appears  in  410 
leaving  his  friend  here  in  necessity  and  denying 
him ;   and  for  his  cowardship,  ask  Fabian. 

Fab.  A  coward,   a   most   devout   coward,    religious 
in  it. 

Sir  And.  'Slid,  I  '11  after  him  again  and  beat  him. 

Sir  To.  Do ;    cuff  him  soundly,  but  never  draw  thy 
sword. 

Sir  And.  An  I  do  not, —  [Exit. 

Fab.  Come,  let 's  see  the  event. 

Sir  To.  I  dare  lay  any  money  'twill  be  nothing  yet.      420 

[Exeunt. 

ACT  FOURTH. 
Scene  I. 

Before  Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Sebastian  and  Clown. 

Clo.  Will  you  make  me  believe  that  I  am  not  sent 

for  you? 
Seb.  Go  to,  go  to,  thou  art  a  foolish  fellow : 

Let  me  be  clear  of  thee. 
Clo.  Well  held  out,  i'  faith!     No,  I  do  not  know 

90 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IV.  Sc.  i. 

you ;  nor  I  am  not  sent  to  you  by  my  lady,  to 
bid  you  come  speak  with  her;  nor  your  name 
is  not  Master  Cesario;  nor  this  is  not  my  nose 
neither.     Nothing  that  is  so  is  so. 

Seh.  I  prithee,  vent  thy  folly  somewhere  else :  lo 

Thou  know'st  not  me. 

Clo.  Vent  my  folly !  he  has  heard  that  word  of  some 
great  man  and  now  applies  it  to  a  fool.  Vent 
my  folly!  I  am  afraid  this  great  lubber,  the 
world,  will  prove  a  cockney.  I  prithee  now, 
ungird  thy  strangeness  and  tell  me  what  I  shall 
vent  to  my  lady :  shall  I  vent  to  her  that  thou 
art  coming  ? 

Sch.  I  prithee,  foolish  Greek,  depart  from  me : 

There  's  money  for  thee :    if  you  tarry  longer,     20 
I  shall  give  worse  payment. 

Clo.  By  my  troth,  thou  hast  an  open  hand.  These 
wise  men  that  give  fools  money  get  themselves 
a  good  report — after  fourteen  years'  purchase. 

Enter  Sir  Andrezv,  Sir  Toby,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  And.  Now,  sir,  have  I  met  you  again  ?    there 's 

for  you. 
Scb.  Why,  there  's  for  thee,  and  there,  and  there. 

Are  all  the  people  mad  ? 
Sir  To.  Hold,  sir,  or  I  '11  throw  your  dagger  o'er     30 

the  house.  PJjjsruP'*^ 

Clo.  This  will  I  tell  my  lady  straight :    I  would  not'    cfi^**-*'*"^ 

be  in  some  of  your  coats  for  two  pence.  [Exit,-^-^*^'*^ 

Sir  To.  Come  on,  sir ;   hold.  "^^X^^*^^ 

Sir  And.  Nay,  let  him  alone:    I'll  go  another  way    Ati^ji-^ 


<a^ 


Act  IV.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

to  work  with  him ;  I  '11  have  an  action  of  bat- 
tery against  him,  if  there  be  any  law  in  Illyria : 
though  I  struck  him  first,  yet  it 's  no  matter  for 
that. 

Seb.  Let  go  thy  hand.  40 

Sir  To.  Come,  sir,  I  w411  not  let  you  go.  Come, 
my  young  soldier,  put  up  your  iron:  you  are 
well  fleshed ;  come  on. 

Seb.  I  will  be  free  from  thee.     What  wouldst  thou  now  ? 
If  thou  darest  tempt  me  further,  draw  thy  sword. 

Sir  To.  What,  what  ?  Nay,  then  I  must  have  an 
ounce  or  two  of  this  malapert  blood  from  you. 

Enter  Olivia. 

Oli.  Hold,  Toby;  on  thy  life,  I  charge  thee,  hold! 

Sir  To.  Madam ! 

Oli.  Will  it  be  ever  thus?     Ungracious  wretch,  50- 

Fit  for  the  mountains  and  the  barbarous  caves, 
Where  manners  ne'er  were  preach'd !  out  of  my  sight ! 
Be  not  offended,  dear  Cesario. 
Rudesby,  be  gone ! 

[Exeunt  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew  and  Fabian. 
I  prithee,  gentle  friend. 
Let  thy  fair  wisdom,  not  thy  passion,  sway 
In  this  uncivil  and  unjust  extent 
Against  thy  peace.     Go  with  me  to  my  house; 
And  hear  thou  there  how  many  fruitless  pranks 
This  ruflian  hath  botch'd  up,  that  thou  thereby 
Mayst  smile  at  this  :  thou  shalt  not  choose  but  go :  60 
Do  not  deny.     Beshrew  his  soul  for  me. 
He  started  one  poor  heart  of  mine  in  thee. 

Seb.  What  relish  is  in  this  ?  how  runs  the  stream  ? 

92 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii. 

Or  I  am  mad,  or  else  this  is  a  dream : 

Let  fancy  still  my  sense  in  Lethe  steep ; 

If  it  be  thus  to  dream,  still  let  me  sleep ! 
Oli.  Nay,  come,  I  prithee :  would  thou  'Idst  be  ruled  by  me ! 
Seb.  Madam,  I  will. 
Oli.  O,  say  so,  and  so  be !  [Exeunt. 

Enter  Maria  and  Clozvn.        H.,^^..  ",  -;^^.   ^ 

Mar.  Nay,   I   prithee,   put   on   this   gown   and   this 

beard;    make  him  believe  thou  art  Sir  Topas     ^''""^ 
the  curate :    do  it  quickly ;    I  '11  call  Sir  Toby      ^J^j^^jp/* 
the  whilst.  [Exit,  ^j^^ 

Clo.  Well,  I  '11  put  it  on,  and  I  will  dissemble  myself  ^js^      >»^^ 
in  't ;  and  I  would  I  were  the  first  that  ever  dis-  .^^J^ 
sembled  in  such  a  gown.     I  am  not  tall  enough  ^^^^^*^ 
to  become  the  function  well,  nor  lean  enough  ^i^^"*^  ^^ 
to  be  thought  a  good  student ;  but  to  be  said  an  "^JIV^ 
honest  man   and  a  good  housekeeper  goes  as     lo 
fairly   as   to   say   a   careful   man   and   a   great 
scholar.     The  competitors  enter. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Maria.   voO^v  V-  jvj^juo^  V^a;*a*v 

Sir  To.  Jove  bless  thee,  master  Parson.         ^     O^JLjua-  ^ 
Clo.  Bonos  dies.  Sir  Toby :   for,  as  the  old  hermit  of  ^^"^"^^^^^^^ 
Prague,  that  never  saw  pen  and  ink,  very  wit-     Co^J^H^  v 
tily  said  to  a  niece  of  Kine^  Gorboduc,  '  That  that   r  ^  ^ 

IS  IS    ;    so  1,  being  master  Parson,  am  master    X^^^^j^j^^J/^xt/^t 
Parson ;   for,  what  is  '  that '  but  '  that,'  and   'is  '^^  0 
but 'is'?  ^ 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Sir  To.  To  him,  Sir  Topas.  20 

Clo,  What,  ho,  I  say !   peace  in  this  prison ! 

Sir  To.  The  knave  counterfeits  well ;  a  good  knave. 

Mai.    [zi^iTfivnX'V^o^dXXs  there? 

Clo.  Sir  Topas  the  curate,  who  comes  to  visit  Alal- 
volio  the  lunatic. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas,  good  Sir  Topas,  go  to 
my  lady. 

Clo.  Out,  hyperbolical  fiend!  how  vexest  thou  this 
man !   talkest  thou  nothing  but  of  ladies  ? 

Sir  To.  Well  said,  master  Parson.  30 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  never  was  man  thus  wronged: 
good  Sir  Topas,  do  not  think  I  am  mad :  they 
have  laid  me  here  in  hideous  darkness. 

Clo.  Fie,  thou  dishonest  Satan!  I  call  thee  by  the 
most  modest  terms ;  for  I  am  one  of  those  gentle 
ones  that  will  use  the  devil  himself  with  cour- 
tesy :   sayest  thou  that  house  is  dark  ? 

Mai.  As  hell.  Sir  Topas. 

Clo.  Why,  it  hath  bay  windows  transparent  as  barri- 

cadoes,   and  the   clearstories  toward  the   south     40 
north  are  as  lustrous  as  ebony ;    and  yet  com- 
plainest  thou  of  obstruction? 

Mai.  I  am  not  mad.  Sir  Topas :  I  say  to  you,  this 
house  is  dark. 

Clo.  ]\Iadman,  thou  errest:  I  say,  there  is  no  dark- 
ness but  ignorance;  in  which  thou  art  more 
puzzled  than  the  Egyptians  in  their  fog. 

Mai.  I  say,  this  house  is  as  dark  as  ignorance,  though 
ignorance  were  as  dark  as  hell ;  and  I  say,  there 
was  never  man  thus  abused.     I  am  no  more  mad     50 
than  you  are :  make  the  trial  of  it  in  any  constant 
question. 

94 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.       i7^ 

Clo.  What  is  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  concerning     ^-«^u!UtJ 
wildfowl?  jiSJ^^ 


Mai.  That  the  soul  of  our  grandam  might  haply  in- 


\v 


habit  a  bird.  ~  ^<^i\>^ 

Clo.  What  thinkest  thou  of  his  opinion?  Vox^jt^^VM^ui* 

Mai,  I  think  nobly  of  the  soul,  and  no  way  approve        o\^ 

his  opinion.  ^uA^o^ect 

Clo.  Fare  thee  well.     Remain  thou  still  in  darkness : 

thou  shalt  hold  the  opinion  of  Pythagoras  ere  I     60 
will  allow  of  thy  wits ;   and  fear  to  kill  a  wood- 
cock, lest  thou  dispossess  the  soul  of  thy  gran- 
dam.   Fare  thee  well. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  Sir  Topas  ! 

Sir  To.  My  most  exquisite  Sir  Topas! 

Clo.  Xay,  I  am  for  all  waters. 

Mar.  Thou  mightst  have  done  this  without  thy  beard 
and  gown  :  he  sees  thee  not. 

Sir  To.  To  him  in  thine  own  voice,  and  bring  me 

word  how  thou  findest  him :  I  would  we  were  70 
well  rid  of  this  knavery.  If  he  may  be  con- 
veniently delivered,  I  would  he  were ;  for  I  am 
now  so  far  in  offence  with  my  niece,  that  I  can- 
not pursue  with  any  safety  this  sport  to  the  up- 
shot.   Come  by  and  by  to  my  chamber. 

[Exeunt  Sir  Toby  and  Maria. 

Clo.   [Singing]   Hey,  Robin,  jolly  Robin, 

Tell  me  how  thy  lady  does. 

Mai.  Fool,— 

Clo.  My  lady  is  imkind,  perdy. 

Mai.  Fool,—  8c 

Clo.  Alas,  why  is  she  so  ? 

Mai.  Fool,  I  say, — 

95 


Act  IV.  Sc.  ii.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Clo,  She  loves  another — Who  calls,  ha  ? 

Mai.  Good  fool,  as  ever  thou  wilt  deserve  well  at  my 

hand,  help  me  to  a  candle,  and  pen,  ink  and 

paper:    as  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  will  live  to  be 

thankful  to  thee  for  't. 
Clo.  Master  Malvolio ! 
Afal.  Ay,  good  fool. 

Clo.  Alas,  sir,  how  fell  you  besides  your  five  wits  ?        90 
Alal.  Fool,  there  was  never  man  so  notoriously  abused : 

I  am  as  well  in  my  wits,  fool,  as  thou  art. 
Clo,  But  as  well  ?  then  you  are  mad  indeed,  if  you  be 

no  better  in  your  wits  than  a  fool. 
Mai.  They  have  here  propertied  me;    keep  me  in 

darkness,  send  ministers  to  me,  asses,  and  do  all 

they  can  to  face  me  out  of  my  wits. 
Clo.  Advise  you  what  you  say ;  the  minister  is  here. 

Malvolio,   Malvolio,   thy   wits   the   heavens   re- 
store!  endeavour  thyself  to  sleep,  and  leave  thy  100 

vain  bibble  babble. 
Mai.  Sir  Topas, — 
Clo.  Maintain   no   words    with   him,    good    fellow. 

Who,  I,  sir?  not  I,  sir.     God  be  wi'  you,  good 

Sir  Topas.     Marry,  amen.     I  will,  sir,  I  will. 
Mai.  Fool,  fool,  fool,  I  say, — 
Clo.  Alas,  sir,  be  patient.     What  say  you,  sir  ?     I  am 

sh^t  for  speaking  to  you. 
MaL  Good  fool,  help  me  to  some  light  and  some 

paper :  I  tell  thee,  I  am  as  well  in  my  wits  as  any  no 

man  in  Illyria. 
Clo.  Well-a-day  that  you  were,  sir! 
MaL  By  this   hand,   I  am.     Good   fool,    some   ink, 

paper  and  light;    and  convey  what  I  will  set 

96 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii. 


down  to  my  lady :   it  shall  advantage  thee  more 
than  ever  the  bearing  of  letter  did. 
Clo.  I  will  help  you  to  't.     But  tell  me  true,  are  you 

not  mad  indeed  ?  or  do  you  but  counterfeit  ? 
Mai.  Believe  me,  I  am  not ;   I  tell  thee  true. 
Clo.  Nay,  I  '11  ne'er  believe  a  madman  till  I  see  his   120 

brains.     I  will  fetch  you  light  and  paper  and  ink. 
Mai.  Fool,  I  '11  requite  it  in  the  highest  degree :    I 

prithee,  be  gone. 
Clo.    [Singing'\   I  am  gone,  sir, 
And  anon,  sir, 
I  '11  be  with  you  again, 
In  a  trice. 

Like  to  the  old  vice, 
Your  need  to  sustain ; 
Who,  with  dagger  of  lath, 
In  his  rage  and  his  wrath. 

Cries,  ah,  ha !    to  the  devil 
Like  a  mad  lad. 
Pare  thy  nails,  dad ; 

Adieu,  goodman  devil.  I   [Exeunt. 


Scene  III. 


Olivia  s 


garden. 


Enter  Sebastian. 

Seh.  ThiS  is  the  air ;  that  is  the  glorious  sun ; 

This  pearl  she  gave  me,  I  do  feel 't  and  see  't  ; 
And  though  'tis  wonder  that  enwraps  me  thus. 
Yet  'tis  not  madness.     Where  's  Antonio,  then  ? 
I  could  not  find  him  at  the  Elephant : 
Yet  there  he  was  ;  and  there  I  found  this  credit, 

97 


Act  IV.  Sc.  iii.  ^  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

That  he  did  range  the  town  to  seek  me  out. 

His  counsel  now  might  do  me  golden  service; 

For  though  my  soul  disputes  well  with  my  sense, 

That  this  may  be  some  error,  but  no  madness,        lo 

Yet  doth  this  accident  and  flood  of  fortune 

So  far  exceed  all  instance,  all  discourse. 

That  I  am  ready  to  distrust  mine  eyes 

And  wrangle  with  my  reason,  that  persuades  me 

To  any  other  trust  but  that  I  am  mad. 

Or  else  the  lady  's  mad ;   yet,  if  'twere  so, 

She  could  not  sway  her  house,  command  her  followers, 

Take  and  give  back  affairs  and  their  dispatch 

With  such  a  smooth,  discreet,  and  stable  bearing 

As  I  perceive  she  does  :  there  's  something  in  't      20 

That  is  deceivable.     But  here  the  lady  comes. 

Enter  Olivia  and  Priest. 

OH.  Blame  not  this  haste  of  mine.     If  you  mean  well. 
Now  go  with  me  and  with  this  holy  man 
Into  the  chantry  by ;  there,  before  him. 
And  underneath  that  consecrated  roof. 
Plight  me  the  full  assurance  of  your  faith ; 
That  my  most  jealous  and  too  doubtful  soul 
May  live  at  peace.     He  shall  conceal  it 
Whiles  you  are  willing  it  shall  come  to  note, 
What  time  we  will  our  celebration  keep  30 

According  to  my  birth.     What  do  you  say  ? 

Scb.  I  '11  follow  this  good  man,  and  go  with  you ; 
And,  having  sworn  truth,  ever  will  be  true. 

OH.  Then  lead  the  way,  good  father ;  and  heavens  so  shine, 
That  they  may  fairly  note  this  act  of  mine ! 

98 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc. 

ACT   FIFTH.      ^^^^.^^^.^uO-A*^ 
Scene  I.  ^^l^-^^"^ 

Before  Olivia's  house. 
Enter  Clown  and  Fabian. 


^\^^ 


Fab.  Now,  as  thou  lovest  me,  let  me  see  his  letter. 
Clo.  Good  Master  Fabian,  grant  me  another  request. 
Fab.  Any  thing. 

Clo.  Do  not  desire  to  see  this  letter. 
Fab.  This  is,  to  give  a  dog,  and  in  recompense  desire 
my  dog  again. 

Enter  Duke,  Viola,  Curio,  and  Lords. 

Duke.  Belong  you  to  the  Lady  Olivia,  friends  ? 

Clo.  Ay,  sir ;  we  are  some  of  her  trappings. 

Duke.  I  know  thee  well :    how  dost  thou,  my  good 

fellow  ?  lo 

Clo.  Truly,  sir,  the  better  for  my  foes  and  the  worse 
for  my  friends. 

Duke.  Just  the  contrary ;   the  better  for  thy  friends. 

Clo.  No,  sir,  the  worse. 

Duke.  How  can  that  be? 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  they  praise  me  and  make  an  ass  of 
me ;  now  my  foes  tell  me  plainly  I  am  an  ass :  so 
that  by  my  foes,  sir,  I  profit  in  the  knowledge  of 
myself  ;  and  by  my  friends  I  am  abused  :  so  that, 
conclusions  to  be  as  kisses,  if  your  four  negatives  20 
make  your  two  affirmatives,  why  then,  the  worse 
for  my  friends,  and  the  better  for  my  foes. 

Duke.  Why,  this  is  excellent. 

99 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Clo.  By  my  troth,  sir,  no ;  though  it  please  you  to  be 
one  of  my  friends. 

Duke.  Thou  shalt  not  be  the  worse  for  me:  there  's 
gold. 

Clo.  But  that  it  would  be  double-dealing,  sir,  I 
would  you  could  make  it  another. 

Duke.  O,  you  give  me  ill  counsel.  30 

Clo.  Put  your  grace  in  your  pocket,  sir,  for  this  once, 
and  let  your  flesh  and  blood  obey  it. 

Duke.  Well,  I  will  be  so  much  a  sinner,  to  be  a 
double-dealer :   there  's  another. 

Clo.  Primo,  secundo,  tertio,  is  a  good  play ;  and  the 
old  saying  is,  the  third  pays  for  all :  the  triplex, 
sir,  is  a  good  tripping  measure :  or  the  bells  of 
Saint  Bennet,  sir,  may  put  you  in  mind;  one, 
two,  three. 

Duke.  You  can  fool  no  more  money  out  of  me  at  this     40 
throw :  if  you  will  let  your  lady  know  I  am  here 
to  speak  with  her,  and  bring  her  along  with  you, 
it  may  awake  my  bounty  further. 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  lullaby  to  your  bounty  till  I  come 
again.  I  go,  sir ;  but  I  would  not  have  you  to 
think  that  my  desire  of  having  is  the  sin  of 
covetousness :  but,  as  you  say,  sir,  let  your 
bounty  take  a  nap,  I  will  awake  it  anon.  [Exit. 

Vio.  Here  comes  the  man,  sir,  that  did  rescue  me. 

Enter  Antonio  and  Officers. 

Duke.  That  face  of  his  I  do  remember  well;  50 

Yet,  when  I  saw  it  last,  it  was  besmear'd 
As  black  as  Vulcan  in  the  smoke  of  war : 
A  bawbling  vessel  was  he  captain  of, 
100 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

For  shallow  draught  and  bulk  unprizable ; 

With  which  such  scathful  gapple  did  he  make 

With  the  most  noble  bottom  of  our  fleet, 

That  very  envy  and  the  tongue  of  loss 

Cried  fame  and  honour  on  him.     What 's  the  matter? 

First  Off.  Orsino,  this  is  that  Antonio 

That  took  the  Phoenix  and  her  fraught  from  Candy  ; 
And  this  is  he  that  did  the  Tiger  board,  6i 

When  your  young  nephew  Titus  lost  his  leg : 
Here  in  the  streets,  desperate  of  shame  and  state, 
In  private  brabble  did  we  apprehend  him. 

Vio.  He  did  me  kindness,  sir,  drew  on  my  side ; 

But  in  conclusion  put  strange  speech  upon  me: 
I  know  not  what  'twas  but  distraction. 

Duke.  Notable  pirate !   thou  salt-water  thief ! 

What  foolish  boldness  brought  thee  to  their  mercies. 
Whom  thou,  in  terms  so  bloody  and  so  dear,  70 

Hast  made  thine  enemies  ? 

Ant.  Orsino,  noble  sir. 

Be  pleased  that  I  shake  off  these  names  you  give  me : 
Antonio  never  yet  was  thief  or  pirate. 
Though  I  confess,  on  base  and  ground  enough, 
Orsino's  enemy.     A  witchcraft  drew  me  hither : 
That  most  ingrateful  boy  there  by  your  side. 
From  the  rude  sea's  enraged  and  foamy  mouth 
Did  I  redeem  ;  a  wreck  past  hope  he  was  : 
His  life  I  gave  him  and  did  thereto  add 
My  love,  without  retention  or  restraint,  80 

All  his  in  dedication  ;   for  his  sake 
Did  I  expose  myself,  pure  for  his  love, 
Into  the  danger  of  this  adverse  town ; 
Drew  to  defend  him  when  he  was  beset : 
10 1 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Where  being  apprehended,  his  false  cunning, 
Not  meaning  to  partake  with  me  in  danger, 
Taught  him  to  face  me  out  of  his  acquaintance, 
And  grew  a  twenty  years  removed  thing 
While  one  could  wink ;   denied  me  mine  own  purse. 
Which  I  had  recommended  to  his  use  90 

Not  half  an  hour  before. 

Vio.  How  can  this  be? 

Duke.  When  came  he  to  this  town  ? 

Ant,  To-day,  my  lord ;  and  for  three  months  before, 
No  interim,  not  a  minute's  vacancy. 
Both  day  and  night  did  we  keep  company. 

•    Enter  Olivia  and  Attendants. 

Duke.  Here  comes  the  countess :    now  heaven  walks  on 
earth. 

But  for  thee,  fellow ;  fellow,  thy  words  are  madness : 

Three  months  this  youth  hath  tended  upon  me; 

But  more  of  that  anon.     Take  him  aside. 
OH.  What  would  my  lord,  but  that  he  may  not  have,  100 

Wherein  OHvia  may  seem  serviceable? 

Cesario,  you  do  not  keep  promise  with  me. 
Vio.  Madam! 
Duke.  Gracious  Olivia, — 

on.  What  do  you  say,  Cesario?     Good  my  lord, — 
Vio.  My  lord  would  speak ;   my  duty  hushes  me. 
OH.  If  it  be  aught  to  the  old  tune,  my  lord. 

It  is  as  fat  and  fulsome  to  mine  ear 

As  howling  after  music. 
Duke.  Still  so  cruel  ? 

OH.  Still  so  constant,  lord.  .    HO 

Duke.  What,  to  perverseness  ?   you  uncivil  lady, 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

To  whose  Ingrate  and  unauspicious  altars, 

My  soul  the  faithfull'st  offerings  hath  breathed  out 

That  e'er  devotion  tender'd !     What  shall  I  do  ? 

OIL  Even  what  it  please  my  lord,  that  shall  become  him. 

Duke.  Why  should  I  not,  had  I  the  heart  to  do  it, 
Like  to  the  Egyptian  thief  at  point  of  death, 
Kill  what  I  love? — a  savage  jealousy 
That  sometime  savours  nobly.     But  hear  me  this : 
Since  you  to  non-regardance  cast  my  faith,  120 

And  that  I  partly  know  the  instrument 
That  screws  me  from  my  true  place  in  your  favour. 
Live  you  the  marble-breasted  tyrant  still ; 
But  this  your  minion,  whom  I  know  you  love, 
And  whom,  by  heaven  I  swear,  I  tender  dearly, 
Him  will  I  tear  out  of  that  cruel  eye. 
Where  he  sits  crowned  in  his  master's  spite. 
Come,  boy,  with  me;    my  thoughts  are  ripe  in  mis- 
chief : 
I  '11  sacrifice  the  lamb  that  I  do  love. 
To  spite  a  raven's  heart  within  a  dove.  130 

Vio.  And  I,  most  jocund,  apt  and  willingly. 

To  do  you  rest,  a  thousand  deaths  would  die. 

OH.  Where  goes  Cesario? 

Vio.  After  him  I  love 

More  than  I  love  these  eyes,  more  than  my  life. 
More,  by  all  mores,  than  e'er  I  shall  love  wife. 
If  I  do  feign,  you  witnesses  above 
Punish  my  life  for  tainting  of  my  love ! 

OH.  Ay  me,  detested!   how  am  I  beguiled! 

Vio.  Who  does  beguile  you  ?  who  does  do  you  wrong  ? 

OH.  Hast  thou  forgot  thyself?  is  it  so  long?  140 

Call  forth  the  holy  father. 
103 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Duke.  Come,  away ! 

OIL  Whither,  my  lord?     Cesario,  husband,  stay. 

Duke.  Husband! 

OIL  Ay,  husband  :   can  he  that  deny  ? 

Duke.  Her  husband,  sirrah ! 

Vio.  No,  my  lord,  not  I. 

OIL  Alas,  it  is  the  baseness  of  thy  fear 

That  makes  thee  strangle  thy  propriety: 

Fear  not,  Cesario ;  take  thy  fortunes  up  ; 

Be  that  thou  know'st  thou  art,  and  then  thou  art 

As  great  as  that  thou  fear'st. 

Enter  Priest. 

O,  welcome,  father! 
Father,  I  charge  thee,  by  thy  reverence,  150 

Here  to  unfold,  though  lately  we  intended 
To  keep  in  darkness  what  occasion  now 
Reveals  before  'tis  ripe,  what  thou  dost  know 
Hath  newly  pass'd  between  this  youth  and  me. 

Priest.  A  contract  of  eternal  bond  of  love, 

Confirm'd  by  mutual  joinder  of  your  hands, 

Attested  by  the  holy  close  of  lips, 

Strengthen'd  by  interchangement  of  your  rings  ; 

And  all  the  ceremony  of  this  compact 

Seal'd  in  my  function,  by  my  testimony :  160 

Since  when,   my  watch  hath  told   me,   toward   my 

grave 
I  have  travell'd  but  two  hours. 

Duke.  O  thou  dissembling  cub!    what  wilt  thou  be 
When  time  hath  sow'd  a  grizzle  on  thy  case  ? 
Or  will  not  else  thy  craft  so  quickly  grow. 
That  thine  own  trip  shall  be  thine  overthrow? 

104 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Farewell,  and  take  her ;   but  direct  thy  feet 
Where  thou  and  I  henceforth  may  never  meet. 

Vio.  My  lord,  I  do  protest — 

OH.  O,  do  not  swear ! 

Hold  little  faith,  though  thou  hast  too  much  fear.  170 

Enter  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  And.  For  the  love  of  God,  a  surgeon  !     Send  one 

presently  to  Sir  Toby. 
OH.  What 's  the  matter  ? 
Sir  And.  He  has  broke  my  head  across  and  has  given 

Sir  Toby  a  bloody  coxcomb  too :   for  the  love  of 

God,  your  help !     I  had  rather  than  forty  pound 

I  were  at  home. 
OH.  Who  has  done  this.  Sir  Andrew? 
Sir  And.  The  count's  gentleman,  one  Cesario:    we 

took  him  for  a  coward,  but  he  's  the  very  devil  180 

incardinate. 
Duke.  My  gentleman,  Cesario? 
Sir  And.  'Od's  lifelings,  here  he  is !     You  broke  my 

head  for  nothing ;   and  that  that  I  did,  I  was  set 

on  to  do  't  by  Sir  Toby. 
Vio.  Why  do  you  speak  to  me  ?     I  never  hurt  you : 

You  drew  your  sword  upon  me  without  cause ; 

But  I  bespake  you  fair,  and  hurt  you  not. 
Sir  And.  If  a  bloody  coxcomb  be  a  hurt,  you  have 

hurt  me:    I  think  you  set  nothing  by  a  bloody  190 

coxcomb. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  and  Clozvn. 

Here  comes  Sir  Toby  halting;  you  shall  hear 
more :  but  if  he  had  not  been  in  drink,  he  would 
have  tickled  you  other  gates  than  he  did. 

105 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  "  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Duke.  How  now,  gentleman !  how  is  't  with  you  ? 
Sir  To.  That 's  all  one :  has  hurt  me,  and  there  's  the 

end  on  't.     Sot,  didst  see  Dick  surgeon,  sot  ? 
Clo.  O,  he  's  drunk,  Sir  Toby,  an  hour  agone ;    his 

eyes  were  set  at  eight  i'  the  morning. 
Sir  To.  Then  he  's  a  rogue,  and  a  passy  measures  200 

pavin  :  I  hate  a  drunken  rogue. 
Oil.  Away  with  him !     Who  hath  made  this  havoc 

with  them?  ♦ 

Sir  And.  I'll  help  you.  Sir  Toby,  because  we'll  be 

dressed  together. 
Sir  To.  Will  you  help  ?   an  ass-head  and  a  coxcomb 

and  a  knave,  a  thin-faced  knave,  a  gull ! 
OH.  Get  him  to  bed,  and  let  his  hurt  be  look'd  to. 

[Exeunt  Clown,  Fabian,  Sir  Toby,  and  Sir  Andrew. 

Enter  Sebastian. 

Seb.  I  am  sorry,  madam,  I  have  hurt  your  kinsman ; 

But,  had  it  been  the  brother  of  my  blood,  210 

I  must  have  done  no  less  with  wit  and  safety. 
You  throw  a  strange  regard  upon  me,  and  by  that 
I  do  perceive  it  hath  offended  you : 
Pardon  me,  sweet  one,  even  for  the  vows 
We  made  each  other  but  so  late  ago. 

Duke.  One  face,  one  voice,  one  habit  and  two  persons, 
A  natural  perspective,  that  is  and  is  not ! 

Seb.  Antonio,  O  my  dear  Antonio ! 

How  have  the  hours  rack'd  and  tortured  me. 

Since  I  have  lost  thee !  220 

Ant.  Sebastian  are  you  ? 

Seb.  Fear'st  thou  that,  Antonio? 

Ant.  How  have  you  made  division  of  yourself? 

106 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

An  apple,  cleft  in  two,  is  not  more  twin 

Than  these  two  creatures.     Which  is  Sebastian  ? 

OH.  Most  wonderful ! 

Seb.  Do  I  stand  there  ?     I  never  had  a  brother ; 
Nor  can  there  be  that  deity  in  my  nature, 
Of  here  and  every  where.     I  had  a  sister, 
Whom  the  blind  waves  and  surges  have  devour'd. 
Of  charity,  what  kin  are  you  to  me?  230 

What  countryman  ?  what  name  ?   what  parentage  ? 

Vio.  Of  Alessaline :   Sebastian  was  my  father ; 
Such  a  Sebastian  was  my  brother  too, 
So  went  he  suited  to  his  watery  tomb : 
If  spirits  can  assume  both  form  and  suit. 
You  come  to  fright  us. 

Seb.  A  spirit  I  am  indeed ; 

But  am  in  that  dimension  grossly  clad 
W^hich  from  the  womb  I  did  participate. 
Were  you  a  woman,  as  the  rest  goes  even, 
I  should  my  tears  let  fall  upon  your  cheek,  240 

And  say  '  Thrice-welcome,  drowned  Viola ! ' 

Vio.  My  father  had  a  mole  upon  his  brow. 

.S'^^.  And  so  had  mine. 

Vio.  And  died  that  day  when  Viola  from  her  birth 
Had  number'd  thirteen  years. 

Seb.  O,  that  record  is  lively  in  my  soul ! 
He  finished  indeed  his  mortal  act 
That  day  that  made  my  sister  thirteen  years. 

Vio.  If  nothing  lets  to  make  us  happy  both 

But  this  my  masculine  usurp'd  attire,  250 

Do  not  embrace  me  till  each  circumstance 
Of  place,  time,  fortune,  do  cohere  and  jump 
That  I  am  Viola :  which  to  confirm, 
107 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

I  '11  bring  you  to  a  captain  in  this  town, 

Where  lie  my  maiden  weeds ;  by  whose  gentle  help 

I  was  preserved  to  serve  this  noble  count. 

All  the  occurrence  of  my  fortune  since 

Hath  been  between  this  lady  and  this  lord. 

Scb.  [To  Oliz'ia]  So  comes  it,  lady,  you  have  been  mistook : 
But  nature  to  her  bias  drew  in  that.  260 

You  would  have  been  contracted  to  a  maid ; 
Nor  are  you  therein,  by  my  life,  deceived. 
You  are  betroth'd  both  to  a  maid  and  man. 

Diikc.  Be  not  amazed ;   right  noble  is  his  blood. 
If  this  be  so,  as  yet  the  glass  seems  true, 
I  shall  have  share  in  this  most  happy  wreck. 

[To  Viola]   Boy,  thou  hast  said  to  me  a  thousand  times 
Thou  never  shouldst  love  woman  like  to  me. 

Vio.  And  all  those  sayings  will  I  over-swear ; 

And  all  those  swearings  keep  as  true  in  soul         270 
As  doth  that  orbed  continent  the  fire 
That  severs  day  from  night. 

Duke.  Give  me  thy  hand  ; 

And  let  me  see  thee  in  thy  woman's  weeds. 

Vio.  The  captain  that  did  bring  me  first  on  shore 
Hath  my  maid's  garments  :  he  upon  some  action 
Is  now  in  durance,  at  Malvolio's  suit, 
A  gentleman,  and  follower  of  my  lady's. 

OIL  He  shall  enlarge  him :   fetch  Malvolio  hither : 
And  yet,  alas,  now  I  remember  me. 
They  say,  poor  gentleman,  he  's  much  distract.      280 

Re-oiter  Clown  zvith  a  letter,  and  Fabian. 

A  most  extracting  frenzy  of  mine  own 
From  my  remembrance  clearly  banish'd  his. 

108 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

How  does  he,  sirrah? 

Clo.  Truly,  madam,  he  holds  Belzebub  at  the  stave's 
end  as  well  as  a  man  in  his  case  may  do :  has 
here  writ  a  letter  to  you ;  I  should  have  given  't 
you  to-day  morning,  but  as  a  madman's  epistles 
are  no  gospels,  so  it  skills  not  much  when  they 
are  delivered. 

OH.  Open  't  and  read  it.  290 

Clo.  Look  then  to  be  well  edified  when  the  fool  delivers 
the  madm.an.   [Reads]   By  the  Lord,  madam, — 

OH.  How  now!   art  thou  mad? 

Clo.  No,  madam,  I  do  but  read  madness :  an  your 
ladyship  will  have  it  as  it  ought  to  be,  you  must 
allow  Vox. 

OH.  Prithee,  read  i'  thy  right  wits. 

Clo.  So  I  do,  madonna ;  but  to  read  his  right  wits  is 
to  read  thus :  therefore  perpend,  my  princess, 
and  give  ear,  300 

OH.  Read  it  you,  sirrah.  [To  Fabian. 

Fab.  By  the  Lord,  madam,  you  wrong  me,  and  the 
world  shall  know  it :  though  you  have  put  me 
into  darkness  and  given  your  drunken  cousin 
rule  over  me,  yet  have  I  the  benefit  of  my  senses 
as  well  as  your  ladyship.  I  have  your  own  let- 
ter that  induced  me  to  the  semblance  I  put  on ; 
with  the  which  I  doubt  not  but  to  do  myself 
much  right,  or  you  much  shame.  Think  of  me 
as  you  please.  I  leave  my  duty  a  little  un-  310 
thought  of,  and  speak  out  of  my  injury. 

The  madly-used  Malvolio. 

OH.  Did  he  write  this? 

109 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Clo.  Ay,  madam. 

Duke.  This  savours  not  much  of  distraction. 

OH.  See  him  deliver'd,  Fabian  ;   bring  him  hither. 

[Exit  Fabian. 
My  lord,  so  please  you,  these  things  further  thought  on, 
To  think  me  as  well  a  sister  as  a  wife. 
One  day  shall  crown  the  alliance  on  't,  so  please  you, 
Here  at  my  house  and  at  my  proper  cost. 

Duke.  Madam,  I  am  most  apt  to  embrace  your  offer.  320 
[  To    Viola]   Your  master  quits  you ;    and   for 

your  service  done  him, 
So  much  against  the  mettle  of  your  sex. 
So  far  beneath  your  soft  and  tender  breeding, 
And  since  you  call'd  me  master  for  so  long, 
Here  is  my  hand :   you  shall  from  this  time  be 
Your  master's  mistress. 

Oli.  A  sister!    you  are  she. 

Re-enter  Fabian,  with  Malvolio. 

Duke.  Is  this  the  madman? 

Oli.  Ay,  my  lord,  this  same. 

How  now,  Malvolio! 

Mai.  Madam,  you  have  done  me  wrong. 

Notorious  wrong. 

OIL  Have  I,  Malvolio?  no. 

Mai.  Lady,  you  have.     Pray  you,  peruse  that  letter.  330 
You  must  not  now  deny  it  is  your  hand : 
Write  from  it,  if  you  can,  in  hand  or  phrase ; 
Or  say  'tis  not  your  seal,  not  your  invention : 
You  can  say  none  of  this :   well,  grant  it  then 
And  tell  me,  in  the  modesty  of  honour, 
Why  you  have  given  me  such  clear  lights  of  favour, 

no 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

Bade  me  come  smiling  and  cross-garter'd  to  you, 
To  put  on  yellow  stockings  and  to  frown 
Upon  Sir  Toby  and  the  lighter  people ; 
And,  acting  this  in  an  obedient  hope,  340 

Why  have  you  suffer'd  me  to  be  imprison'd. 
Kept  in  a  dark  house,  visited  by  the  priest, 
And  made  the  most  notorious  geek  and  gull 
That  e'er  invention  play'd  on?  tell  me  why. 
OH.  Alas,  Malvolio,  this  is  not  my  writing. 

Though,  I  confess,  much  like  the  character : 
But  out  of  question  'tis  Maria's  hand. 
And  now  I  do  bethink  me,  it  was  she 
•    First  told  me  thou  wast  mad ;  then  camest  in  smiling, 
And  in  such  forms  which  here  were  presupposed  350 
Upon  thee  in  the  letter.     Prithee,  be  content: 
This  practice  hath  most  shrewdly  pass'd  upon  thee ; 
But  when  we  know  the  grounds  and  authors  of  it, 
Thou  shalt  be  both  the  plaintiff  and  the  judge 
Of  thine  own  cause. 

Fab.  Good  madam,  hear  me  speak. 

And  let  no  quarrel  nor  no  brawl  to  come 
Taint  the  condition  of  this  present  hour, 
Which  I  have  wonder'd  at.     In  hope  it  shall  not, 
Most  freely  I  confess,  myself  and  Toby 
Set  this  device  against  Malvolio  here,  360 

Upon  some  stubborn  and  un courteous  parts 
We  had  conceived  against  him :   Maria  writ 
The  letter  at  Sir  Toby's  great  importance ; 
In  recompense  whereof  he  hath  married  her. 
How  with  a  sportful  malice  it  was  follow'd 
May  rather  pluck  on  laughter  than  revenge ; 
If  that  the  injuries  be  justly  weigh'd 
III 


Act  V.  Sc.  i.  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

That  have  on  both  sides  pass'd. 

OIL  Alas,  poor  fool,  how  have  they  baffled  thee! 

Clo.  Why,  '  some  are  born  great,  some  achieve  great-  370 

I  ness,  and  some  have  greatness  thrown  upon 
them.'  I  was  one,  sir,  in  this  interlude;  one 
Sir  Topas,  sir ;  but  that 's  all  one.  '  By  the 
J  a  '"^  Lord,  fool,  I  am  not  mad.'  But  do  you  remem- 
n  '^*  'H  ber  ?  '  Madam,  why  laugh  you  at  such  a  bar- 
ren rascal  ?  an  you  smile  not,  he  's  gagged  ' : 
and  thus  the  whirligig  of  time  brings  in  his  re- 
venges. 

Mai.  I  '11  be  revenged  on  the  whole  pack  of  you.     [Exit. 

Oli.  He  hath  been  most  notoriously  abused. 

Duke.  Pursue  him,  and  entreat  him  to  a  peace :  380 

He  hath  not  told  us  of  the  captain  yet : 
When  that  is  known,  and  golden  time  convents, 
A  solemn  combination  shall  be  made 
Of  our  dear  souls.     ^leantime,  sweet  sister. 
We  will  not  part  from  hence.     Cesario,  come ; 
For  so  you  shall  be,  while  you  are  a  man ; 
But  when  in  other  habits  you  are  seen, 
Orsino's  mistress  and  his  fancy's  queen. 

[Exeunt  all,  except  Clown, 

Clo.   [Sings'\ 

When  that  I  was  and  a  little  tiny  boy, 
'    .  With  hev,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain,  390 

\  r      r>/  ^  foolish  thing  was  but  a  toy, 


*^^ 
X 

^ 


For  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day. 

But  when  I  came  to  man's  estate,  1 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
'Gainst  knaves  and  thieves  men  shut  their  gate, 

For  the  rain,  &c. 

112 


/i 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Act  V.  Sc.  i. 

But  when  I  came,  alas !   to  wive, 
/  With  hey,  ho,  &c. 

By  swaggering  could  I  never  thrive, 

For  the  rain,  &c.  400 

But  when  I  came  unto  my  beds. 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
With  toss-pots  still  had  drunken  heads, 

For  the  rain,  &c. 

A  great  while  ago  the  world  begun. 

With  hey,  ho,  &c. 
But  that 's  all  one,  our  play  is  done, 

And  we  '11  strive  to  please  you  every  day.  [Exit. 


113 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Glossary, 


Abuse,  deceive;  III.  i.  120. 
Accosted,  addressed;  III.  ii.  20. 
A  degree,  one  step ;  III,  i.  130. 
Adheres,  accords;  III.  iv.  84. 
Admire,  wonder ;  III.  iv.  162. 
Adverse,  hostile;  V.  i.  83. 
Advise  you,  take  care;  IV.  ii. 

98. 
Affectioned,    affected;     II.    iii. 

153. 

Agone,  ago;  V.  i.  198. 

Allowed,  licensed;  I.  v.  96. 

Allow  me,  make  me  acknowl- 
edged; I.  ii.  59- 

Alone,  pre-eminently;  I.  i.  15. 

An  =  one;  II.  i.  19. 

Anatomy,  body ;  used  con- 
temptuously; III.  ii.  65. 

And;  used  redundantly,  as  in 
the  old  ballads;  V.  i.  389. 

Antique,  quaint;  II.  iv.  3. 

Apt,  ready;  V.  i.  320. 

Arbitrement,  decision;  III.  iv. 
281. 

Argument,  proof;  III.  ii.  10. 

As  yet,  still ;  V.  i.  265. 

Attends,  awaits ;  III.  iv.  239. 

Back-trick,  a  caper  backwards ; 

I,  iii.  124. 
BaMed,  treated  with  contempt; 

V.  i.  369- 
Barful,    full    of    impediments ; 

(Pope,  "  O  baneful  "  ;  Daniel. 

"a  woeful")  ;  I.  iv.  41. 


Barren,  dull ;  I.  v.  85. 
Barricadoes,  fortifications  made 
in  haste,  obstructions ;  IV.  ii. 

39. 

Bawbling,  insignificant,  trifling ; 

V.  i.  53. 

Bawcock,  a  term  of  endear- 
ment ;  always  used  in  mascu- 
line sense;  III.  iv.  123. 

Beagle,  a  small  dog;  II.  iii. 
185. 

Before  me,  by  my  soul ;  II.  iii. 
184. 

Belike,  I  suppose ;  III.  iii.  29. 

Bent,  tension;  II.  iv."  38. 

Beshrew,  a  mild  form  of  im- 
precation; IV.  i.  61. 

Besides,  out  of;  IV.  ii.  90. 

Bespake  you  fair,  spoke  kindly 
to  you;  V.  i.  188. 

Bias,  originally  the  weighted 
side  of  a  bowl ;  V.  i.  260. 

Bibble  babble,  idle  talk;  IV.  ii. 

lOI. 

Biddy,  "  a  call  to  allure  chick- 
ens " ;  III.  iv.  126. 

Bird-bolts,  blunt-headed  ar- 
rows ;  I.  V.  95. 

Blazon,  "  coat-of-arms  " ;  I.  v. 
303. 

5/^wf  =  blended;  I.  v.  248. 

Bloody,  bloodthirsty;  III.  iv. 
239- 

Blows,  inflates,  puffs  up;  II.  v. 
45. 


114 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


Bosom,  the  folds  of  the  dress 
covering  the  breast,  stomach- 
er;  III.  i.  128. 

Botcher,  mender  of  old  clothes  ; 
1.  V.  46. 

Bottle-ale,  bottled  ale;  II.  iii. 
29. 

Bottom,  ship,  vessel:  V.  1.  56. 

Brabble,  brawl,  broil;  V.  i.  64. 

Branched,  "  adorned  with 
needle  -  work,  representing 
flowers  and  twigs  " ;  II.  v.  49- 

Breach,  surf;   II.  i.  22. 

Breast,  voice ;  II.  iii.  20. 

Bred,  begotten ;  I.  ii.  22. 

Brock,  badger,  a  term  of  con- 
tempt ;  II.  v.  106. 

Brownist,  a  member  of  a  Puri- 
tan sect;  III.  ii.  3i- 

Bum-baily,  bailiff;  III.  iv.  190. 

5wf  =  than;  I.  iv.  13- 

Buttery-bar;  buttery,  place 
where  drink  and  food  were 
kept;  bar,  place  where  they 
were  served  out;  I.  iii.  7i- 


Buttery-bar,  Christ  Church,  Oxford, 

By  the  duello,  by  the  laws  of 
duelling;  III.  iv.  329. 


Canary,  wine  from  the  Canary 
Isles;  I.  iii.  81. 

Cantons  =i  cantos;  I.  v.  280. 

Case,  body,  skin ;  V.  i.  164. 

Castiliano  vulgo;  "  Spanish  of 
Sir  Toby's  own  making," 
perhaps  it  may  mean,  "  Be  as 
reticent  as  a  Castilian  now 
that  one  of  the  common  herd 
is  coming  "  ;  I.  iii.  44- 

Catalan,  Chinese;  used  here  as 
a  term  of  reproach ;    II.  iii. 

77- 

Catch,  "  a  song  sung  in  succes- 
sion "  ;  II.  iii.  18. 

Chain,  the  chain  of  office  which 
stewards  were  accustomed  to 
wear;  II.  iii.  124. 

Chantry,  a  private  chapel;  IV. 
iii.  24. 

Checks;  "  to  check  "  is  "  a  term 
in  falconry,  applied  to  a  hawk 
when  she  forsakes  her  proper 
game,  and  follows  some  other 
of  inferior  kind  that  crosses 
her  in  her  flight  "  ;  II.  v.  116; 
IIL  i.  69. 

Cherry-pit,  "  a  game  consisting 
in  pitching  cherry-stones  into 
a  small  hole  " ;  III.  iv.  127. 

Cheveril,  roe-buck  leather ; 
symbol  of  flexibility;   III.  i. 

13. 

Chuck,  chicken,  a  term  of  en- 
dearment ;  III.  iv.  124. 

Civil,  polite,  well-mannered ; 
III.  iv.  5. 

Clodpole,  blockhead;  III.  iv. 
208. 

Cloistress,  inhabitant  of  a  clois- 
ter, nun ;  I.  i.  28. 

Cloyment,  surfeit;  II.  iv.  loi. 


115 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Cockatrice,  an  imaginary  crea- 
ture, supposed  to  be  produced 
from  a  cock's  egg,  and  to  have 
so  deadly  an  eye  as  to  kill 
by  its  very  look;  III.  iv.  211. 

Collier;  "  the  devil  was  called 
so  because  of  his  blackness  "  ; 
cp.  the  proverb :  "  like  will  to 
like,  quoth  the  devil  to  the 
collier  " ;  III.  iv.  128. 

Colours;  "  fear  no  colours," 
fear  no  enemy ;  I.  v.  6. 

Comfortable,  comforting;  I.  v. 
232. 

Commerce,  conversation ;  III. 
iv.  187. 

Compare,  comparison ;  II.  iv. 
103. 

Competitors,  confederates ;  IV. 
ii.  12. 

Complexion,  external  appear- 
ance ;  II.  iv.  26. 

Comptible,  sensitive;  I.  v.  181. 

Conceited,  has  formed  an  idea; 
III.  iv.  316. 

Conclusions  to  he  as  kisses,  i.e. 
"  as  in  a  syllogism  it  takes 
two  premises  to  make  one 
conclusion,  so  it  takes  two 
people  to  make  one  kiss " 
(Cambridge  edition)  ;  V.  i.  20. 

Conduct,  guard,  escort;  III.  iv. 
260. 

Consequently,  subsequently; 
III.  iv.  77. 

Consideration;  "on  carpet  c." 
=  "  a  mere   carpet  knight  "  ; 

III.  iv.  254. 

Constant,     consistent,     logical ; 

IV.  ii.  51. 

Convents,  is  convenient;  V.  i. 
382, 


Coranto,  a  quick,  lively  dance; 

I.  iii.  130. 

Couplet,  couple;  III.  iv.  401. 

Coxcomb,  head;  V.  i.  175. 

Coystrill,  a  mean,  paltry  fel- 
low; I.  iii.  41. 

Coziers,  botchers,  cobblers;  II. 
iii.  92. 

Credit,  intelligence ;  IV.  iii.  6. 

Cross-gartered;  alluding  to  the 
custom  of  wearing  the  gar- 
ters crossed  in  various  styles ; 

II.  V.  156. 


Specimens  of  cross-gartering. 

{a)  and  {b)  Front  and  back  views  of  a 
gentleman's  knee,  from  an  early 
XVIth  century  tapestry. 

{c)  Tartar  cross-gartering.  From  a 
book  on  costume,  published  at  Ant- 
werp, 1582. 

Crowner,  coroner;  I.  v.  137. 

Cruelty,  cruel  one  ;  II.  iv.  82. 

Cubiculo  (one  of  Sir  Toby's 
"affectioned"  words),  apart- 
ment; III.  ii.  54. 


116 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


"  Ciicullus  lion  facit  mona- 
chum "  ==  a  cowl  does  not 
make  a  monk;  I.  v.  57. 

Cunning,  skilful;  I.  v.  249. 

Curst,  sharp,  shrewish;  III.  ii. 

43. 

Cut,  a  docked  horse ;  II.  iii.  193. 

Cypress;  probably  ''a  coffin  of 
cypresswood  "  ;  (others  ex- 
plain it  as  a  shroud  of  cy- 
press ;  Cotgrave  mentions 
white  cipres)  ;  II.  iv.  53. 

Cypress,  crape  {v.  Note)  ;  III. 
i.  128. 

Dally,  play,  trifle ;  III.  i.  16. 
Day-bed,  couch,  sofa ;  II.  v.  50. 
Deadly,  death-like ;  I.  v.  275. 
Dear,  heartfelt ;  V.  i.  70. 
Deceivahle,    delusive;    IV.    iii. 

21. 

Dedication,  devotedness ;  V.  i. 
81. 

Delivered,  set  at  liberty;  V.  i. 
315. 

Denay,  denial ;  II.  iv.  126. 

Deny,  refuse;  IV.  i.  61. 

Desperate,  hopeless;  II.  ii.  8; 
reckless ;  V.  i.  62,. 

Despite,  malice ;  III.  iv.  239. 

Determinate,  fixed;  II.  i.  10. 

Dexteriously,  dexterously;  I.  v. 
61. 

Dilucido  surgere  (saluberri- 
mum  est),  to  rise  early  is 
most  healthful ;  II.  iii.  2. 

Dimension,  bodily  shape;  I.  v. 
271 ;  V.  i.  237. 

Discourse,  reasoning;  IV.  iii. 
12. 

Dismount,  draw  from  the  scab- 
bard; III.  iv.  240. 


Disorders,   misconduct ;   II.   iii, 

100. 
Dissemble,  disguise ;  IV.  ii.  5. 
Distemper,  make  ill-humoured ; 

II.  i.  5. 
Distempered,  diseased ;  I.  v.  93. 
Dry,  insipid ;  I.  v.  44. 

Egyptian  thief;  an  allusion  to 
Thyamis,  a  robber  chief  in 
the  Greek  Romance  of  Thea- 
genes  and  Chariclea  (trans, 
into  English  before  1587)  ; 
the  thief  attempted  to  kill 
Chariclea,  whom  he  loved, 
rather  than  lose  her ;  by  mis- 
take he  slew  another  person ; 
V.  i.  117. 

Element,  sky  and  air,  I.  i.  26; 
sphere.  III.  i.  62,.  The  four 
elements,  i.e.  fire,  air,  water, 
earth,  II.  iii.  10.  (See  illus- 
tration.) 


From  the  Myrroiir  and  Dyscrypcyon 
of  the  Worlde,  with  many  Mer- 
V  ay  lies  (c.  1525). 

Elephant,  the  name  of  an  inn; 
III.  iii.  39. 


117 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT 


Enchantment,  love-charm;  III. 
i.  119. 

Encounter,  go  towards ;  used 
affectedly;  III.  i.  79. 

Endeavour  thyself,  try;  IV.  ii. 
100. 

Enlarge,  release ;  V.  i.  278. 

Entertainment,  treatment;  I.  v, 
225. 

Estimable  wonder,  admiring 
judgment;  II.  i.  27. 

Except,  before  excepted,  allu- 
ding to  the  common  law- 
phrase  ;  I.  iii.  7. 

Expenses,  a  tip,  douceur;  III. 
i.  48. 

Expressure,  expression ;  II.  iii. 
164. 

Extent,     conduct,     behaviour; 

IV.  i.  56. 

Extracting  (later  Folios  "  ex- 
acting"), "drawing  other 
thoughts    from    my    mind"; 

V.  i.  281. 
Extravagancy,  vagrancy ;  II.  i. 


Fadge,  prosper ;  II.  ii.  34. 

Fall,  strain,  cadence ;  I.  i.  4. 

Fancy,  love;  I.  i.  14;  V.  i.  388. 

Fantastical,  fanciful,  creative; 
I.  i.  15. 

'Farewell,  dear  heart,  since  I 
must  needs  begone,'  etc. ;  al- 
tered from  Corydon's  Fare- 
well to  Phillis  (Percy's  Re- 
liques)  ;  II.  iii.  105. 

Favour,  face,  form;  II.  iv.  24; 
III.  iv.  352. 

Feature,  external  form,  body; 
III.  iv.  389. 

Feelingly,  exactly;  II.  iii.  165, 


Fellozv,  companion ;  III.  iv.  82. 
Firago,   corruption   of   virago; 

III.  iv.  296. 

Fire-new,  brand-new  ;  III.  ii.  21. 
Fit,  becoming,  suitable;  III.  i. 

72. 
Flatter    with,    encourage    with 

hopes;  I.  v.  313. 
Fleshed,     "made     fierce     and 

eager   for  combat,   as  a   dog 

fed  with  flesh  only  " ;  IV.  i. 

43. 

Fond,  dote;  II.  ii.  35. 

Forgive,  excuse ;  I.  v.  200, 

For  that,  because ;  III.  i.  161. 

Fourteen  years'  purchase,  i.e. 
"  at  a  high  rate,"  the  current 
price  in  Shakespeare's  time 
being  twelve  years'  purchase ; 

IV.  i.  24. 

Fraught,  freight;  V.  i.  60. 
Free,     careless      (or     perhaps 

graceful,    comely ;    cp.    "  fair 

and  free  ")  ;  II.  iv.  46. 
Fresh  in  murmur,  begun  to  be 

rumoured ;  I.  ii.  32. 
Fright,  affright ;  V.  i.  236. 
From;  "  f.  Candy,"  i.e.  "  on  her 

voyage  from  Candy";  V.  i. 

60. 
Fulsome,  gross,  distasteful;  V. 

i.  108. 

Galliard,  a  lively  French  dance ; 
I.  iii.  121. 

Gaskins,  a  kind  of  loose 
breeches ;  I.  v.  25. 

Geek,  dupe ;  V.  i.  343. 

Gentleness,  kindness,  good- 
will ;  II.  i.  44. 

Giddily,  negligently;  II.  iv.  86. 

Gin,  snare;  II.  v.  85. 


118 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 

Ginger,  a  favourite  spice  in 
Shakespeare's  time,  especially 
with  old  people;  frequently 
referred  to  by  Shakespeare; 
II.  iii.  121. 

Goes  even,  agrees,  tallies ;  V.  i. 

239- 
Good  life,  jollity,  with  a  play 
upon  the  literal   meaning  of 
the  word,  "  virtuous  living  "  ; 
II.  iii.  37-39- 

Goodman,  (Folios  "  good 
man"),  a  familiar  appella- 
tion, sometimes  used  con- 
temptuously; IV.  ii.  135- 

Grace,  virtue;  V.  i.  31. 

Gracious,  full  of  graces;  I.  v. 
272. 

Grain;  "in  grain,"  natural;  I. 
V.  247. 

Gratillity;  clown  's  blunder  for 
"gratuity";  II.  iii.  27. 

Greek;  "foolish  Greek,"  i.e. 
jester,  merrymaker  (cp. 
"  Matthew  Merrygreek "  in 
Ralph  Roister  Doistet')  ;  "the 
Greeks  were  proverbially 
spoken  of  by  the  Romans  as 
fond  of  good  living  and  free 
potations"  (Nares)  ;  IV.  i. 
19. 

Grise,  step,  degree ;  III.  1.  131. 

Grizzle,  a  tinge  of  grey  (per- 
haps a  grisly  beard)  ;  V.  i. 
164. 

Gust  =  gusto,  enjoyment;  I.  iii. 
32. 

Haggard,     a     wild     untrained 

hawk;  III.  i.  69. 
Hale,  draw;  III.  ii.  62. 
Haply,  perhaps;  IV.  ii.  54. 


Glossary 

Having,    possessions;    III.    iv. 

368. 
Heat,  course;  I.  i.  26. 
"  Hey  Robin,  jolly  Robin,"  etc., 

an  old  ballad  (to  be  found  in 

the  Reliques,  Percy)  ;  IV.  ii. 

76-7. 
High  =  highly,  I.  i.  i5- 
Hob  nob,  "have  or  have  not, 

hit    or    miss,    at    random " ; 

III.  iv.  258. 
"Hold  thy  peace,  thou  knave," 

and  old  three-part  catch,  so 

arranged    that    each     singer 

calls   the   other   "  knave  "    in 

turn;  II.  iii.  66. 
Honesty,     "decency,     love     of 

what   is   becoming";    II.   iii. 

89. 
Horrible,  horribly ;  III.  iv.  192. 
Hull,  float ;  I.  V.  212. 
Humour   of  state,   "capricious 

insolence  of  authority";   IL 

V.  54. 

Idleness,    f rivolbusness ;    I.    v. 

65. 

Impeticos,  to  impocket  or  im- 
petticoat;  one  of  the  clown's 
nonsense  words;  II.  iii.  27. 

Importance,  importunity;  V.  i. 

363. 
Impressure.  impression;   II.  v- 

95. 
Incensemeni.  exasperation;  III. 

iv.  256. 
Incredulous,  incredible;  III.  iv. 

86. 
Ingrateful,  ungrateful ;  V.  i.  7^. 
In terchangemen t,    interchange , 

V.  i.  158. 
Into,  unto;  V.  i.  83. 


119 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Jealousy,  apprehension ;  III.  iii. 

8. 
Jets,  struts;  II.  v.  34. 
Jewel,  a  piece  of  jewelry;  III. 

iv.  224. 
Jezebel,  used  vaguely  as  a  term 

of  reproach ;  II.  v.  43. 
Joinder,  joining;  V.  i.  156. 
Jump,  tally ;  V.  i.  252. 

Kickshazi'scs  =  kickshaws;     I. 

iii.  117. 
Kindness,  tenderness;  II.  i.  40. 

Lapsed,  surprised;  III.  iii.  36. 
Late,  lately;  I.  ii.  30;  III.  i.  41. 
Leasing,  lying;  I.  v.  100. 
Lenian,   lover,    sweetheart;    II. 

iii.  26. 
Lenten,  scanty,  poor ;  I.  v.  9. 
Lets,  hinders ;  V.  i.  249. 
Lies,  dwells  ;  III.  i.  8. 
Lighter,  inferior  in  position ;  V. 

i.  339- 
Limed,  caught  with  bird-lime, 

ensnared ;  III.  iv.  80. 
List,  boundary,  limit ;  III,  i.  83. 
Little,  a  little;  V.  i.  170. 
Liver,  popularly  supposed  to  be 

the  seat  of  the  emotions ;  II. 

iv.  100;  III.  ii.  20. 
Love  -  broker,     agent     between 

lovers;  III.  ii.  37. 
Lowly,  mean,  base ;  III.  i.  106. 
Lucrece;  "  her  L.,"  i.e.  her  seal ; 

cp.  the  following  illustration 

with  head  of  Lucrece ;  II.  v. 

96. 
Lullaby,   "  good  night  "  ;   V.   i. 

44. 
Maidenhead  =  maidenhood ;    I. 

V.  226. 


An  antique  ring,  of  Niello  work,  with 
the  head  of  Lucrece.  From  an  en- 
graving by  F.  W.  Fairholt. 

Malapert,  saucy,  forward;  IV. 

i.  47. 
Malignancy,  malevolence ;  II.  i. 

4- 

Maugre,  in  spite  of;  III.  i.  158. 

Meddle,  fight ;  III.  iv.  271. 

Metal  (Folio  i,  "mettle"; 
Folio  2,  "nettle");  "metal 
of  India  "  ;  =  "  my  golden 
girl,  my  jewel";  (others  ex- 
plain "  nettle  of  India  "  as  the 
Urtica  marina,  a  plant  of 
itching  properties)  ;  II.  v.  15. 

Minion,  favourite,  darling;  V. 
i.  124. 

Minx,  a  pert  woman;   III.  iv. 

131. 

Miscarry,  be  lost,  die ;  III.  iv. 
68. 

Misprison,  misapprehension;  I. 
V.  56. 

Mistress  Mall;  possibly  "a 
mere  personification,"  like 
"  my  lady's  eldest  son "  in 
Much  Ado;  I.  iii.  128. 

Mollification;  "some  m.  for 
your  giant,"  i.e.  "  something 
to  pacify  your  gigantic  (!) 
waiting-maid  "  ;  I.  v.  213. 

Monster,  unnatural  creature ; 
II.  ii.  35. 


120 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


Mistress  Mall's  picture. 
From  the  title-page  ot  Middleton  and 
Decker's    comedy.       1  he    Roaring 
Girle,  or  Moll  Cut-purse  (1611). 

Mortal,  deadly;  III.  iv.  281. 
Mouse,  a  term  of  endearment ; 
I.  V.  64. 

Nayword,  by-word;  II.  iii.  141. 

Newly,  lately;  V.  i.  154. 

Nicely,  sophistically,  subtilely; 
III.  i.  16. 

Non-re  gar  dance,  disregard;  V. 
i.  120. 

Not,  used  pleonastically  after 
"  forbid  "  ;  II.  ii.  19. 

Note ;  "  come  to  note,"  i.e.  "  be- 
come known  "  ;  IV.  iii.  29. 

Notorious,  notable ;  V.  i.  329. 

Numbers,  measure  of  the 
verses ;  II.  v.  104. 

Nuncio,  messenger ;  I.  iv.  28. 

Of  =  on;  III.  iv.  2;  for  the 
sake  of;  V.  i.  230. 


On  =  at;  II.  ii.  3. 

Opal,  a  precious  stone  supposed 
to  change  its  colours;  II.  iv. 
76. 

Open,  openly;  III.  iii.  37, 

Opposite,  opponent;  III.  ii.  66. 
III.  iv.  249. 

Opposite,  hostile;  II.  v.  150. 

Orb,  earth ;  III.  i.  42. 

Orbed  continent,  the  sun;  V.  i. 
271. 

Other  gates,  in  another  way; 
V.  i.  194. 

""  O,  the  twelfth  day  of  Decem- 
ber," the  opening  of  some  old 
ballad  now  lost;  II.  iii.  86. 

Over-swear,  repeat,  swear  over 
again ;  V.  i.  269. 

Owe  =  own ;  I.  v.  320. 

Parish-top ;  alluding  to  the 
large  top  kept  in  every  vil- 
lage, for  the  peasants  to  whip 
in  frosty  weather,  for  the 
purpose  of  keeping  them- 
selves warm  and  out  of  mis- 
chief; I.  iii.  43. 

Part,  in  part,  partly;  III.  iv. 
366. 

Passages,  acts ;  III.  ii.  75. 

Pass  upon  (literally,  to  thrust), 
to  make  a  push  in  fencing; 
make  sallies  of  wit;  III.  i. 
47- 

Pedant,  schoolmaster;  III.  ii. 
78. 

Peevish,  silly,  wilful;  I.  v.  310. 

"  Peg-a-Ramsay,"  the  name  of 
an  old  ballad  now  unknown ; 
II.  iii.  78. 

Penthesilea,  the  queen  of  the 
Amazons;  II.  iii.  183. 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Perchance,  by  chance  ;  I.  ii.  6. 

Perdy,  a  corruption  of  par 
Dieu;  IV.  ii.  79. 

Perpend,  attend,  listen;  V.  i. 
299. 

Personage,  personal  appear- 
ance; I.  V.  160. 

Perspective,  deception;  V.  i. 
217. 

Pilchard,  a  fish  strongly  resem- 
bling the  herring;  III.  i.  38. 

Pipe,  voice;  I.  iv.  32. 

"Please  onCj  and  please  all." 
The  title  of  an  old  ballad 
(entered  on  the  Stationers' 
Registers  in  Jan.  18,  1591-92; 
printed  in  Staunton's  Shake- 
speare) ;  III.  iv.  25. 

Pluck  on,  excite;  V.  i.  366. 

Point-devise,  exactly;  II.  v. 
165. 

Points,  suspenders;  I.  v.  23. 


From  a  MS.  (6976  Paris  National 
Library  of  The  Pour  Sons  of 
Aymon.  The  figure  (of  a  man  par- 
tially stripped  for  execution)  shows 
how  the  "  points  "  secured  the  hose 
to  the  upper  garment. 

Possess  us,  put   us   in   posses- 
sion, tell  us ;  II.  iii.  144. 
Post,  messenger;  I.  v.  294. 


Practice,  plot ;  V.  i.  352. 
Praise  =  appraise  ;        (perhaps 

(?)  with  a  play  upon  the  two 

senses  of  praise)  ;  I.  v.  259. 
Pranks,  adorns  ;  II.  iv.  88. 
Pregnant,  clever,  expert;  II.  ii. 

29;  III.  i.  97. 
Present,  i.e.  present  wealth ;  III. 

iv.  369- 
Presently,  immediately;  III.  iv. 

213. 
Prevented,   anticipated;    III.   i. 

90. 
Private,  privacy ;  III.  iv.  97. 
Probation,  examination;  II.  v. 

131- 
Proof;    "vulgar    p."    common 

experience;  III.  i.  131. 
Proper,  handsome;  III.  i.  140 ; 

own;  V.  i.  319. 
Proper-false,       "  well  -  looking 

and  deceitful  " ;  II.  ii.  30. 
Propertied,  taken  possession  of ; 

IV.  ii.  95.^ 

Propriety,     individuality,     thy- 
self; V.  i.  146. 
Pure,  purely;  V.  i.  82. 

Question;  "  in  contempt  of  q." 
past  question ;  II.  v.  90. 

Quick,  living,  lively;  I.  i.  9. 

Quinapalus,  an  imaginary  phil- 
osopher ;  I.  V.  35. 

Quirk,  humour,  caprice ;  III.  iv. 
264. 

Receiving,  understanding,  quick 
wit;  III.  i.  127. 

Recollected,  variously  inter- 
preted to  mean  (i)  studied; 
(2)  refined;  (3)  trivial; 
"  recollected  terms  "  perhaps 


122 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


popular  refrains  (  ?  "  terms  " 

="  turns  "  or  "tunes");  II. 

iv.  5. 
Record,  memory ;  V.  i.  246. 
Recover,  win;  II.  iii.  190. 
Regard,  look,  glance ;  V.  i.  212. 
Reins,     is     governed     by     the 

bridle;  III.  iv.  347. 
Reliqiies,  memorials  ;  III.  iii.  19. 
Renown,  make  famous;  III.  iii. 

24. 
Reverberate,  reverberating, 

echoing ;  I.  v.  282. 
Round,  plain ;  II.  iii.  97. 
Ruh  with  crums,  to  clean ;  II. 

iii.  123. 
Rubious,  red,  rosy;  I.  iv.  32. 
Rudesby,  blusterer ;  IV.  i.  54. 
Rute,  behaviour;  II.  iii.  127. 

Sack,  Spanish  and  Canary 
wine;  II.  iii.  196. 

Sad,  serious ;  III.  iv.  5. 

Saint  Bennet,  probably  St.  Ben- 
net's,  Paul's  Wharf,  London, 
destroyed  in  the  great  fire ; 
V.  i.  38. 

Scab,  a  term  of  reproach  or 
disgust ;  II.  V.  77. 

Scout,  watch;  III.  iv,  189. 

Self,  self-same  (perhaps  with 
the  force  of  "  exclusive," 
"absolute")  ;  I.  i.  39. 

Semblative,  seeming,  like ;  I.  iv. 

..  34- 

"  Shake  your  ears,"  an  expres- 
sion of  contempt,  "  grumble 
at  your  pleasure  "  ;  II.  iii.  129. 

She,  woman ;  I.  v.  250. 

Sheep-biter,  a  cant  term  for  a 
thief;  II.  v.  5. 

Shent,  chidden;  IV.  ii.  108. 


Sheriff's  post;  alluding  to  the 
custom  of  sheriffs  setting  up 
posts  at  their  doors,  upon 
which  to  place  notices  and 
proclamations ;  I.  v.  152. 

Shrewishly,  pertly; 
I.  V.  166. 

Silly  sooth,  simple 
truth ;  IL  iv.  47. 

Sir,  gentleman, 
lord;  III.  iv.  79 ; 
title  formerly  ap- 
plied to  the  in- 
ferior c 1 e  rgy  ; 
IV.  ii.  2. 

Skilless,  inexperi- 
enced; III.  iii.  9. 

Skills,  matters ;  V. 
i.  288. 

Skipping,  wild, 
mad;  I.  v.  210. 

'Slid,  a  corruption 
of  "  by  God's 
lid";  III.  iv.  415. 

'Slight,  a  corrup- 
tion of  "  God's 
light " ;  II.  V. 
35;  III.  ii.  12. 

Sneck   up,   an   e^-^'^nl^re'- 
clamation     of     served  at 
contempt;     go     ^°^"^^^- 
and  be  hanged ;   II.  iii.  96. 

Sophy,  Shah  of  Persia;  II.  v. 
184;  III.  iv.  301. 

Sound,  clear ;  I.  iv.  S3- 

Sowter,  name  of  a  hound ;  II.  v. 
125. 

Spinsters,  female  spinners;  II. 
iv.  45. 

Spoke,  said ;  I.  iv.  20. 

Squash,  an  immature  peascod; 
I.  V.  162. 


Sheriff's  Post. 


123 


Glossary 

Stable,  steady;  IV.  iii.  19, 

Standing  water,  between  the 
ebb  and  flood  of  the  tide;  I. 
V.  164. 

Staniel  (Folios,  "  stallion,"  cor- 
rected by  Hanmer),  a  kind 
of  hawk;  II.  v.  116. 

S tate=^cond\t.\on,  fortune ;  I.  v. 
288 ;  V.  i.  6z. 

State,  chair  of  State;  II.  v.  47. 

Stitches,  a  sharp  pain ;  III.  ii. 
71. 

Stock,  stocking;  I.  iii.  138. 

Stone-bow,  "  a  cross-bow,  from 
which  stones  or  bullets  were 
shot  "  ;  II.  V.  48. 

Stoup,  a  drinking  vessel ;  II.  iii. 
124. 

Strange,  stout,  reserved  and 
proud;  II.  v.  173. 

Strange,  estranged;  V,  i.  212. 

Strangeness,  reserve ;  IV.  i.  16. 

Strangle,  suppress ;  V.  i.  146. 

Stuck,  stoccato,  a  thrust  in 
fencing;  III.  iv.  297. 

Substractors;  Sir  Toby's  blun- 
der for  "  detractors  " ;  I.  iii. 

Suited,  clad;  V.  i.  234. 
Supportance,     upholding;     III. 
iv.  322. 


TWELFTH  NIGHT: 

Szvabhcr,  one  who  scrubs  the 
ship's  deck;  I.  v.  212, 

Swarths,  swaths ;  II.  iii.  155. 

Sweeting,  a  term  of  endear- 
ment; II.  iii.  43. 

Tabor,  an  instrument  used  by 
professional  clowns ;  III.  i.  2. 

Taffeta,  a  fine  smooth  stuff  of 
silk;  II.  iv.  75. 

Tainting  of,  bringing  discredit 
upon ;  V.  i.  137. 

Take  up,  acknowledge;  V.  i. 
147. 

Tall,  used  ironically;  I.  iii.  20. 

Tang,  twang;  II.  v.  152. 

Tartar,  Tartarus;  II.  v.  210. 

Taste,  put  to  use,  try ;  III.  i.  84. 

Taxation,  tax,  demand;  I.  v. 
219. 

Tender,  hold  dear;  V.  i.  125. 

Terms,  words,  "  recollected 
terms,"  vide;  II.  iv.  5. 

Testril,  sixpence ;  II.  iii,  34. 

''  There  dwelt  a  man  in  Baby- 
lon," a  line  from  the  old 
ballad  of  Susanna  (cp.  Ro- 
meo and  Juliet,  II.  iv.  151)  ; 
II.  iii.  81. 

"  Three  merry  men  be  we," 
a  fragment  of  an  old  song; 


SrToby  /VHI^— g__jL  f     d-^^^E^^ 


Three  merry  men,  and   three  merry  men,  and 


m 


thfee     merry    men    be 


I     in  the  wood  and 


=l^= 


w 


(hou  on  the  ground.  And     Jack  sleeps    in        the 
F«om  Naylor's  Shakespeare  and  Musicj, 


124 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


frequently  quoted  by  the 
dramatists  {cp.  Chappell's 
Popular  Music)  ;  11.  iii.  78. 

Throw,  a  throw  with  the  dice, 
hence  "  cast,  or  venture  " ; 
V.  i.  41. 

Tillyvally,  an  exclamation  of 
contempt ;  11.  iii.  80. 

Time-pleaser,  timeserver,  flat- 
terer; II.  iii.  153. 

Tinkers,  menders  of  old  brass ; 
"  proverbial  tipplers  and 
would-be  politicians  "  ;  II.  iii. 
90. 

Trade,  business ;  III.  i.  80. 

Travel  of  regard,  looking 
about ;  II.  v.  55. 

Tray -trip,  a  game  like  back- 
gammon ;  II.  v.  193. 

Trouble;  "your  tr."  the  trouble 
I  have  caused  you;  II.  i.  34. 

Trunks,  alluding  to  the  elabo- 
rately carved  chests  in  use  in 
Shakespeare's  time;  III.  iv. 
393- 

Tuck,  rapier ;  III.  iv.  240. 


From  a  specimen  in  the  possession  of  Lord 
Londesborough. 


Unprizahle,  invaluable ;  V.  i.  54. 

UnproHted,  profitless ;  I.  iv. 
22. 

Upon,  because  of,  in  conse- 
quence of;  V.  i.  361. 

Use,  usury;  III.  i.  55. 

Validity,  value ;  I.  i.  12. 

Venerable,  worthy  of  venera- 
tion; III.  iv.  386. 

Vice,  the  buffoon  of  the  old 
morality  plays ;  IV.  ii.  128. 

Viol-de-gamboys;  Sir  Toby's 
blunder  for  viol  da  gamha,  a 
bass-viol  or  violoncello,  a 
fashionable  instrument  of 
that  time;  I.  iii.  25. 

Vo  u  chsafed, 
vouch- 
safing;III. 
i.  96. 

Wain  ro  pes, 
waggon- 
ropes;  III. 
ii.  62. 


Viol-de-gamboys. 
From    the    alchemial 
MS.  in  the  Harleian 
collection. 


Unauspicious,  inauspicious ; 

i.  112. 
Unchary,    heedlessly ;    III. 

218. 
Ungird,  relax ;  IV.  i.  16. 
Unhatclied,      "  unbacked, 

blunted  by  blows  "  ;   III. 

253. 


V. 


not 


Ware;  "  Bed  of  Ware  "  ;  a  huge 
bed,  capable  of  holding 
twelve  persons ;  formerly  at 
the  Saracen's  Head  Inn  at 
Ware,  and  now  at  the  Rye- 
House;  III.  ii.  49.  (See  il- 
lustration.) 

Was,  had  been ;  IV.  iii.  6, 


125 


Glossary 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Waters;  "  I  am  for  all  waters," 
i.e.  "  I  can  turn  my  hand  to 
anything :  like  a  fish,  I  can 
swim  equally  well  in  all  wa- 
ters"; IV.  ii.  66. 

Weaver;  alluding  perhaps  to 
the  psalm-singing  propensi- 
ties of  the  weavers  ;  II.  iii.  60. 

Weeds,  garments;  V.  i.  255. 


"  Westiuard-ho!  "  an  exclama- 
tion often  used  by  the  boat- 
men on  the  Thames ;  III.  i. 
141. 

What,  at  which ;   IV.  iii.  30. 

What 's  she  =  who  is  she  ;  I.  ii. 
35- 

Whiles  =z  while  ;  III.  iii.  41 ; 
until ;  IV.  iii.  29. 


The  Great  Bed,  at  Ware. 


Welkin,  sky;  II.  iii.  58;  III.  i. 
63. 

W ell-a-day ,  an  exclamation  ex- 
pressive of  grief;  "welaway," 
alas!   IV.  ii.   112. 

Were  best,  had  better ;  III.  iv. 
12. 

Were  better,  had  better;  II. 
ii.  27, 


Whipstock,  whip-handle ;  II. 
iii.  28. 

Windy,  safe;  III.  iv.  177. 

With,  by ;  I.  v.  86. 

Wits;  "  five  wits,"  viz.,  "  com- 
mon wit,  imagination,  fan- 
tasy, estimation,  and  mem- 
ory " ;  IV.  ii.  90. 

Woodcock,    a    bird    popularly 


126 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Glossary 


supposed  to  have  no  brains, 
hence  the  word  was  com- 
monly used  for  a  fool ;  11.  v. 
85;  IV.  ii.  61. 
Worth,  substance,  wealth ;  III. 
iii.  17. 

Yare,  ready,  active ;  III.  iv.  240. 
'  Yeoman   of   the   wardrobe/   a 


regular  title  of  office  in 
Shakespeare's  time;  II.  v. 
42. 

Zanies;  "  subordinate  bufifoons 
whose  office  was  to  make 
awkward  attempts  at  mimick- 
ing the  tricks  of  the  pro- 
fessional clown  "  ;  I.  V.  91. 


M) 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Critical  Notes. 


BY   ISRAEL   GOLLANCZ. 


I.  i.  5.  '  sound ' ;  so  the  Folios ;  Pope  changed  it  to  '  south',  and 
editors  have  generally  accepted  this  emendation,  but  it  seems  un- 
necessary :  Grant  White  appropriately  asks,  "  Did  Pope,  or  the 
editors  who  have  followed  him,  ever  lie  musing  on  the  sward  at 
the  edge  of  a  wood,  and  hear  the  low  sweet  hum  of  the  summer 
air,  as  it  kissed  the  coyly-shrinking  wild  flowers  upon  the  banks, 
and  passed  on  loaded  with  fragrance  from  the  sweet   salute?" 

I.  i.  22.  'like  fell  and  cruel  hounds'',  referring  to  the  story  of 
Actseon. 

I.  i.  38.  'all  supplied,  and  iill'd' ',  the  comma  after  '  supplied*  is 
not  in  the  Folio :  its  insertion  simplifies  the  lines.  Others  leave 
the  Folio  reading,  but  bracket  ''  her  sweet  perfections '  in  the  next 
line ;  making  them  appositional  to  *  thrones.' 

I.  i.  15.  'Arion   on   the   dolphin's  hack ' ;   the   Folios   misprint 


Anon  on  the  dolphin's  back. 

From  B.  Klichler's  Reprcesentatio  der  Piirstlichen  Auffzug.  ,  , 

Herrenjoh.  Priedrich  Hcrtzogen  zu  Wiirttenberg  (1609). 

128 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

'  Orion '  for  'Arion.'  Cp.  the  famous  passage — "  Oberon's 
Vision  " — in  Midsummer-Night's  Dream. 

I.  iii.  70-71.  '  bring  your  hand  to  the  buttery-bar  and  let  it 
drink';  "a  proverbial  phrase  among  Abigails,  to  ask  at  once  for 
a  kiss  and  a  present  "  (Kenrick). 

I,  iii.  96.  '  Then  hadst  thou  had  an  excellent  head  of  hair' ;  Sir 
Toby  evidently  plays  upon  'tongues'  and  'tongs'  (i.  e.  curling- 
tongs). 

I.  iii.  120.  '  an  old  man ' ;  Theobald  proposed  to  read  '  a  noble 
man'  taking  the  allusion  to  be  to  Orsino.  Clarke  explains  '  an  old 
man  '  as  '  a  man  of  experience  ' ;  "  the  word  old','  he  adds,  "  giv.es 
precisely  that  absurd  effect  of  refraining  from  competing  in  danc- 
ing, fencing,  etc.,  with  exactly  the  antagonist  incapacitated  by  age 
over  whom  Sir  Andrew  might  hope  to  prove  his  superiority." 

I.  iii.  141.  '  That's  sides  and  heart';  Sir  Andrew  and  Sir  Toby 
are  wrong  in  the  parts  assigned  to  Taurus  in  the  old  astrological 
figures  of  the  human  body.  Taurus  was  supposed  to  govern  the 
neck  and  throat. 

I.  iv.  3.  '  three  days ' ;  Mr.  Daniel  points  out  in  his  '  Time 
Analysis '  that  this  statement  is  inconsistent  with  the  Duke's 
words  in  V.  i.  102,  '  Three  months  this  youth  hath  tended  upon 
me.' 

II.  i.  17.  '  Messaline' ;  possibly  an  error  for  Mitylene,  as  Capell 
conjectured. 

II.  iii.  17.  'the  picture  of  "we  three"';  "a  common  sign,  in 
which  two  wooden  heads  are  exhibited  with  this  inscription  under 
it,  '  IVe  three  loggerheads  be'  the  spectator  being  supposed  to 
make  the  third  "  (Malone). 

II.  iii.  23-25.  '  Pigrogromitus  .  .  .  of  Queubus'  etc.  Mr. 
Swinburne  sees  in  these  '  freaks  of  nomenclature '  the  direct  influ- 
ence of  Rabelais  {cp.  A  Study  of  Shakespeare,  pp.  155,  156). 

XL  iii.  40.  '  O  mistress  mine,'  etc.;  "this  tune  is  contained  in 
both  the  editions  of  Morley's  Consort  Lessons,  1599  and  161 1.  It 
is  also  found  in  Queen  Elizabeth's  Virginal  Book,  arranged  by 
Boyd.  As  it  is  to  be  found  in  print  in  1599,  it  proves  either  that 
Shakespeare's  Twelfth  Night  was  written  in  or  before  that  year, 
or  that,  in  accordance  with  the  then  prevailing  custom,  '  O  mis- 
tress mine,'  was  an  old  song,  introduced  into  the  play  "  (Chappell's 
Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time). 

II.  iii.  117.  'Out  o'  tune,  sir:  ye  lie';  Theobald  proposed 
'  time,  sir? '  which  has  been  very  generally  adopted.  The  reading 
of  the  Folios  may  well  stand  without  change.     Sir  Toby  says  to 

129 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

the  Clown  that  he  is  out  of  tune  and  Hes  in  declaring  '  no,  no,  no, 
you  dare  not'  {i.e.  dare  not  bid  Malvolio  go).  Hence  next  words 
'Art  any  more  than  a  steward,'  addressed  to  Malvolio. 

II.  V.  41.  'the  lady  of  the  Strachy';  this  is  one  of  the  unset- 
tled problems  in  Shakespeare.  Hunter  ingeniously  suggested  that 
Shakespeare  ridicules,  in  the  scene  between  the  Clown,  as  Sir 
Topas,  and  Malvolio  (IV.  ii.),  the  exorcisms  by  Puritan  ministers, 
in  the  case  of  a  family  named  Starchy  (1596-99),  and  that  the  dif- 
ficult StracJiy  was  a  hint  to  the  audience  to  expect  subsequent  allu- 
sion to  the  Starchy  afifair.  Others  suggest  '  Strozzi,'  '  Stracci' 
'  Stratarch.'  Halliwell  refers  to  a  Russian  word  meaning  lawyer  or 
judge.  The  incident  of  a  lady  of  high  rank  marrying  her  steward 
is  the  subject  of  Webster's  Duchess  of  Malfy. 

II.  V.  65,  66.  '  zvith  cars ' ;  so  Folio  i ;  the  later  Folios,  '  with 
cares';  Johnson,  'with  carts';  many  emendations  have  been  pro- 
posed. Clarke  defends  the  original  reading,  and  compares  '  A 
team  of  horse  shall  not  pluck  that  from  me  '  (Two  Gentlemen,  III. 
i.  265);  Hanmer's  suggestion  *  ^3;  th'  ears'  has  been  generally 
adopted. 

II.  V.  155.  '  yellozu  stockings ' ;  these  were  much  worn  in  Shake- 
speare's time,  and  have  still  survived  to  our  own  day  in  the  yellow 
stockings  worn  by  the  '  Blue  Coat  boys.' 

III.  i.  54.  '  these,'  i.e.  these  coins  which  Viola  has  given  him. 
III.  i.  60.  '  Cressida  was  a   beggar';   'according  to  the   story 

Cressida  finally  became  a  leper  and  begged  by  the  roadside.' 

III.  i.  69.  'And,  like  the  haggard,  check  at  every  feather';  so 
the  Folios ;  Johnson  proposed  '  not '  for  '  and,'  and  this  reading  has 
reasonably  been  adopted  by  most  editors  ;  '  to  check ''  is  "  a  term  in 
falconry,  applied  to  a  hawk  when  she  forsakes  her  proper  game, 
and  follows  some  other  of  inferior  kind  that  crosses  her  in  her 
flight " ;  the  meaning  therefore  of  the  Folio  reading  would  be 
'  that  he  must  catch  at  every  opportunity,'  but  this  does  not  suit 
the  context :  the  wise  Clown  must  be  discriminative ;  hence  John- 
son's '  not.' 

III.  i.  yz-  '  "^^^^  men,  folly-fall  'n,  quite  taint  their  wit ' ;  Folio 
I,  '  wisemens  folly  falne ' ;  Hanmer  and  Warburton,  '  wise  men's 
folly  shown' ;  the  text  is  Theobald's,  and  is  generally  adopted 

III.  i,  128.  '  a  cypress,  not  a  bosom.  Hides  my  heart ' ;  the  force 
of  these  words  has,  it  would  seem,  been  missed;  the  point  of  the 
*  cypress '  is  not  its  blackness  but  its  transparency.  Cp.  '  The  BaU 
lad  of  Robin  Hood,  Scarlet  and  John  ' : — 

130 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Notes 


"  Cypress  over  her  face, 
Through  which  her  rose-like  cheeks  did  blush 
All  in  a  comely  grace." 

'Bosom'  must,  I  think,  be  used  in  this  passage  in  the  sense  of 

*  the  bosom  of  the  dress '  which  conceals  the  body.     Olivia  says, 

*  you  can  see  my  heart ;  a  thin  gauze  as  it  were  hides  it,  not  a 
stomacher,' 

III,  ii,  26.  'sailed  into  the  north'  etc.;  perhaps  this  is  a  refer- 
ence to  the  discovery  of  Northern  Nova  Zembla  by  the  Dutch- 
man Barenz  in  1596.  {Cp.  C.  H.  Coote's  paper  on  '  the  new  map' 
I.  83.     Nezv  Shakespeare  Society  Publications,  1878). 

III.  ii.  68.  'youngest  wren  of  nine'',  Folio,  'mine,'  emended  by 
Theobald.  The  wren  is  said  to  lay  nine  or  ten  eggs  at  a  time, 
and  the  last  hatched  nestling  is  usually  the  smallest  of  the  whole 
brood. 

III.  ii.  83.  '  the  nezv  map  zvith  the  augmentation  of  the  Indies' ; 
no  doubt  a  reference  to  the  map  which  Hallam,  in  his  Literature 
of  Europe,  calls  '  the  best  map  of  the  i6th  century ' :  it  is  found  in 
the  first  edition  of  Hakluyt's  Voyages  (1589),  but  as  it  records  dis- 
coveries made  at  least  seven  years  later,  it  was  in  all  probability  a 


Part  (showing  Borneo,  Celebes,  etc. )  of  a  map  of  the  Indies  in  Linschoten's 
Discotcrs  of  Voyages  into  the  E.  and  W.  Indies  (1598). 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

separate  map,  well  known  at  the  time,  and  made  so  as  to  be  in- 
serted in  Hakluyt:  the  author  was  probably  Mr.  Emmerie  Mol- 
lineux,  who  was  also  the  first  Englishman  to  make  a  terrestrial 
globe.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  map  shows  a  marked  develop- 
ment of  the  geography  of  India  proper,  etc.  {Cp.  Transactions  of 
the  Nezv  Shakespeare  Society,  1877-79)  • 

III.  iii.  15.  'A7id  thanks;  and  ever  [thanks,  and]  oft  good 
turns.'  The  Cambridge  editors  indicate  by  dots  that  some  word 
has  dropped  out  between  *  ever '  and  '  oft.'  Many  emendations 
have  been  proposed.  Theobald's  suggestion  has  been  adopted;  the 
Old  Spelling  Shakespeare  reads 

'And  thanks;  and,  ever  oft,  good  turns     .     .     .     ' 

''  ever  oft '  in  the  sense  of  '  with  perpetual  frequency.' 

IV.  i.  14-15.  '/  am  afraid  this  great  lubber,  the  world,  will 
prove  a  cockney ' ;  so  the  Folios ;  the  lines  evidently  mean  "  I  am 
afraid  affectation  and  foppery  will  overspread  the  world  "  (John- 
son) ;  it  has  been  proposed  to  change  'world'  into  'word'  (i.e. 
with  reference  to  '  vent ')  :  others  read  '  this  great  lubberly 
world ' ;  Knight  explains  that  the  words  are  spoken  aside,  and 
mean,  '  I  am  afraid  the  world  will  prove  this  great  lubber  (Sebas- 
tian) a  cockney.'  This  seems  very  strained,  and  probably  the 
simplest  reading  of  the  passage  is  the  best. 

IV.  ii.  14.  '  the  old  hermit  of  Prague ' ;  Douce  points  out  that  the 
allusion  is  "  not  to  the  celebrated  heresiarch,  Jerome  of  Prague, 
but  another  of  that  name,  born  likewise  at  Prague,  and  called  the 
hermit  of  Camaldoli  in  Tuscany." 

IV.  ii.  40.  'clearstories';  Folio  i,  '  cleere  stores';  Folio  2, 
'cleave  stones';  the  reading  adopted  is  Blakeway's  conjecture  in 
Boswell :  *  clerestory '  is  the  name  given  to  the  windows  above  the 
arches  of  the  nave  of  a  Gothic  church. 

IV.  ii.  135.  ' goodman  devil';  Folio  i,  'good  man  diueW; 
Rowe's  '  goodman  Drivel,'  seems  the  most  plausible  emendation,  if 
any  is  necessary;  Folio  2  reads  'good  man  Direll.' 

V.  i.  113.  'My  soul  the  faithfiill'st  offerings  hath  breathed 
out ' ;  the  Folios  '  haue'  corrected  by  Capell,  but  probably  Shake- 
speare's own  reading;  the  plural  for  the  singular,  owing  to  the 
plural  object  ('  faith  full 'st  offerings')  preceding  the  verb. 

V.  i.  200-1.  'a  passy  measures  pavin';  Folio  i,  ' panyn';  Folio 
2,  'Pavin';  various  emendations  have  been  suggested,  but  there 
is  little  doubt  that  the  reading  in  the  text  is  the  correct  one.  '  Pas- 
sy measures '  is  a  corruption  of  the  Italian  *  passamezzo,'  which 

132 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Notes 


word  Florio  explains  as  *  a  passa-measiire  in  dancing,  a  cinque 
pace ' ;  it  was  a  slow  dance,  differing  little  from  the  action  of  walk- 
ing. '  Pavin'  was  a  grave  Spanish  dance.  Cp.  Naylor's  Shake- 
speare and  Music,  201  ff.  According  to  Halliwell,  the  passy  meas- 
ures pavin  is  described  as  follows  in  an  early  ]\IS.  list  of  dances: — 


Passo-e-mezzo.  Pavana. 

From  II  Ballarino  di  M.  Fabj-itio  Ca7-oso  da  Sertnofieta  (Venice,  1581). 

"  The  passinge  measure  Pavyon — 2  singles  and  a  double  forward, 
and  2  singles  syde. — Reprince  back."  Sir  Toby  means,  therefore, 
that  '  the  surgeon  is  a  rogue  and  a  grave  solemn  coxcomb.' 

V.  i.  362.  'against.'     Tyrwhitt's    conjecture    'in'    has    a    good 
deal  in  its  favour;  'against'  may  have  been  caught  from  line  360. 


133 


TWELFTH  NIGHT; 


Explanatory  Notes. 

The  Explanatory  Notes  in  this  edition  have  been  specially  selected  and 
adapted,  with  emendations  after  the  latest  and  best  authorities,  from  the 
most  eminent  Shakespearian  scholars  and  commentators,  including  Johnson, 
Malone,  Steevens,  Singer,  Dyce,  Hudson,  White,  Furness,  Dowden,  and 
others.  This  method,  here  introduced  for  the  first  time,  provides  the  best 
annotation  of  Shakespeare  ever  embraced  in  a  single  edition. 

ACT  FIRST. 
Scene  I. 

[Duke.]  Hudson  in  his  "  abstract  of  the  tale  as  told  by  Barnaby 
Rich,  from  which,"  he  says,  "  a  pretty  fair  estimate  of  the  Poet's 
obligations  may  be  easily  made  out,"  further  remarks :  "  A  certain 
duke,  named  Apolonius,  had  served  a  year  in  the  wars  against  the 
Turk.  Returning  homewards  by  sea,  he  was  driven  by  stress  of 
weather  to  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  where  he  was  well  received  by 
Pontus,  the  governor,  whose  daughter  Silla  fell  so  deeply  in  love 
with  him,  that  after  his  departure  to  Constantinople  she  forsook 
home  in  pursuit  of  him,  having  persuaded  her  man  Pedro  to  go 
along  with  her.  For  security  against  such  perils  and  injuries  as 
are  apt  to  befall  young  ladies  in  her  situation,  she  assumed  the 
dress  and  name  of  her  brother  Silvio,  who  was  absent  from  home 
when  she  left.  Coming  to  Constantinople,  she  inquired  out  the 
residence  of  Apolonius,  and  presented  herself  before  him,  craving 
to  be  his  servant;  and  he,  being  well  disposed  towards  strangers, 
and  liking  her  appearance,  took  her  into  his  service.  Her  smooth 
and  gentle  behaviour  soon  won  his  confidence,  and  her  happy  dili- 
gence in  waiting  upon  him  caused  her  to  be  advanced  above  all  the 
rest  of  his  servants  in  credit  and  trust." 

5-7.  like  the  sweet  sound,  etc. : — Milton  seems  to  have  had  this 
in  his  eye  when  he  wrote  the  richly- freighted  lines : — 

"  Now  gentle  gales, 
Fanning  their  odoriferous  wings,  dispense 
Native  perfumes,  and  whisper  whence  they  stole 
Those  balmy  spoils." 

1-34 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

22,  23.  like  jell  and  cruel  hounds,  etc. : — Shakespeare  seems  to 
think  men  cautioned  against  too  great  familiarity  with  forbidden 
beauty  by  the  fable  of  Actason,  who  saw  Diana  naked,  and  was 
torn  to  pieces  by  his  hounds ;  as  a  man  indulging  his  eyes  or  his 
imagination  with  a  view  of  a  woman  he  cannot  gain,  has  his  heart 
torn  with  incessant  longing.  An  interpretation  far  more  elegant 
and  natural  than  Bacon's,  who,  in  his  Wisdom  of  the  Ancients, 
supposes  this  story  to  warn  us  against  inquiring  into  the  secrets 
of  princes,  by  showing  that  those  who  know  that  which  for  rea- 
sons of  state  ought  to  be  concealed  will  be  detected  and  destroyed 
by  their  own  servants.  Malone  thinks  that  Shakespeare  had  seen 
and  here  recalled  Daniel's  5th  Sonnet : — 

"  Whilst  youth  and  error  led  my  wand'ring  mind, 
And  sette  my  thoughts  in  heedles  waies  to  range, 
All  unawares  a  goddesse  chaste  I  finde, 

(Diana  like)  to  worke  my  suddaine  change. 

My  thoughts,  like  hounds,  pursue  me  to  my  death,"  etc. 

Daniel  in  turn  may  have  drawn  upon  Whitney's  Emblems,  1586 : — 

"  those  whoe  do  pursue 
Theire  fancies  fonde,  and  thinges  unlawful!  crave, 
Like  brutishe  beastes  appeare  unto  the  viewe, 
And  shall  at  length  Actseon's  guerdon  have : 
And  as  his  howndes,  so  theire  affections  base 
Shall  them  devoure,  and  all  theire  deedes  deface." 

Whitney  may  have  recurred  to  Adlington's  dedication  to  his 
translation  of  the  Golden  Ass  of  Apuleius :  "  For  by  the  fable  of 
Actaeon,  .  .  .  may  be  meant,  that  when  a  man  casteth  his  eies 
on  the  vaine  and  soon-fading  beauty  of  the  world,  consenting 
thereto  in  his  minde,  he  seemes  to  be  turned  into  a  bruite  beast, 
and  so  to  be  slaine  through  the  inordinate  desire  of  his  own 
affects." 

30.  season : — The  Poet  elsewhere  uses  season  in  this  sense. 
Thus  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  II.  iii.  69-72 : — 

"Jesu  Maria,  what  a  deal  of  brine 
Hath  wash'd  thy  sallow  cheeks  for  Rosaline ! 
How  much  salt  water  thrown  away  in  waste, 
To  season  love  !  " 

135 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Scene  II. 

15.  Avion: — Rolfe  says:  "  The  allusion  is  to  the  classical  story 
of  the  minstrel  Arion,  who,  when  the  sailors  were  about  to  mur- 
der him  for  his  money,  asked  leave  to  play  a  '  swan-song'  before 
he  died,  after  which  he  threw  himself  into  the  sea,  and  was  borne 
safely  to  land  by  one  of  the  dolphins  that  had  gathered  about  the 
ship  to  listen  to  his  music."  Halliwell  observes  that  the  simile 
was  familiar  to  the  Poet  and  his  audience,  both  from  the  classical 
story  and  from  its  frequent  introduction  into  the  masques  and 
pageants  of  the  day. 

28,  29.  1  have  heard,  etc. : — "  One  ,of  Shakespeare's  subtle 
touches  in  dramatic  art,"  says  Clarke.  "By  the  mention  of  Vio- 
la's father  having  spoken  of  the  Duke  we  are  led  to  see  the  source 
of  her  interest  in  Orsino;  and  by  the  word  bachelor  we  are  made 
to  see  the  peculiar  nature  of  that  interest." 

56.  as  an  eunuch : — This  plan  of  Viola's  was  not  pursued,  as  it 
would  have  been  inconsistent  with  the  plot  of  the  play.  She  was 
presented  as  a  page,  not  as  a  eunuch. 

Scene  V. 

166.  shrewishly : — "  It  is  worthy  of  note,"  says  Clarke,  "  not  only 
how  Olivia  is  so  much  struck  by  the  sauciness  of  the  page- 
messenger,  whose  manner  is  so  different  from  the  usual  deference 
with  which  Orsino's  envoys  treat  her  as  to  interest  her  in  the 
youth  even  before  she  sees  him,  but  it  is  also  to  be  remarked  how 
Viola  assumes  flippancy  when  coming  from  the  Duke,  although, 
while  in  his  house,  speaking  to  either  himself  or  his  gentlemen, 
she  maintains  the  most  quiet,  distant,  and  even  reservedly  digni- 
fied speech  and  conduct." 

213.  Some  mollification  for  your  giant: — Ladies  in  romance  are 
guarded  by  giants.  Viola,  seeing  the  waiting-maid  so  eager  to 
oppose  her  message,  entreats  Olivia  to  pacify  her  giant ;  an  ironical 
allusion  to  Maria's  smallness  of  stature. 

270.  In  voices  well  divulged: — Perhaps  well-reputed  for  his 
knowledge  in  languages,  which  was  esteemed  a  great  accomplish- 
ment in  the  Poet's  time;  or  the  meaning  may  be  well  voiced  or 
spoken  of  by  others. 

304.  Unless  the  master  were  the  man : — Malone  interprets  this 
passage  as  follows :  "  Unless  the  dignity  of  the  master  were 
added  to  the  merit  of  the  servant,  I  shall  go  too  far  and  disgrace 

136 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

myself."  Steevens  says  she  may  mean,  "  this  is  unbecoming  for- 
wardness on  my  part,  unless  I  were  as  much  in  love  with  the 
master  as  I  am  with  the  man."  Clarke  explains  it :  "  Unless  the 
master's  love  for  me  were  felt  by  the  man." 

319.  Mine  eye,  etc. : — She  fears  that  her  eyes  had  formed  so 
flattering  an  idea  of  the  supposed  youth  Cesario,  that  she  may 
not  have  strength  of  mind  sufficient  to  resist  the  impression. 

321.  he  this  so: — Hudson  in  his  "abstract  of  the  tale  as  told 
by  Barnaby  Rich,"  thus  continues  the  argument :  "  At  this  time 
there  dwelt  in  the  city  a  lady  widow  named  Julina,  whose  husband 
had  lately  died,  leaving  her  large  possessions  and  rich  livings,  and 
who,  moreover,  surpassed  all  the  ladies  of  Constantinople  in 
beauty.  Her  attractions  of  course  proved  too  much  for  the  Duke : 
he  became  an  earnest  suitor  to  the  lady,  and  employed  his  new 
servant  to  carry  his  love-tokens  and  forward  his  suit.  Thus,  be- 
sides her  other  afflictions,  this  piece  of  disguised  sweetness  had  to 
endure  the  greater  one  of  being  the  instrument  to  work  her  own 
mishap,  and  of  playing  the  attorney  in  a  cause  that  made  against 
herself;  nevertheless,  being  altogether  desirous  to  please  her 
master,  and  caring  nothing  at  all  to  offend  herself,  she  urged  his 
suit  with  as  much  zeal  as  if  it  had  been  her  own  preferment.  But 
'twas  not  long  till  Silla's  sweetness  stole  through  her  disguise 
right  into  the  heart  of  the  lad}^  Julina,  who  at  length  got  so  entan- 
gled with  the  often  sight  of  this  sweet  temptation,  that  she  fell  as 
much  in  love  with  the  servant  as  the  master  was  with  herself. 
Thus  things  went  on,  till  one  day  Silla,  being  sent  with  a  message 
to  the  lady,  began  to  solicit  very  warmly  for  the  Duke,  when 
Julina  interrupted  her,  saying,  '  Silvio,  it  is  enough  that  you  have 
said  for  your  master :  henceforth  either  speak  for  yourself,  or  say 
nothing  at  all.' " 

ACT   SECOND. 
Scene  L 

35.  murder  me : — It  may  be  that  in  this  passage  reference  is  had 
to  a  superstition  thus  indicated  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  in  The  Pirate : 
When  Mordaunt  has  rescued  Cleveland  from  the  sea,  and  is  try- 
ing to  revive  him,  Bryce,  the  pedler,  says  to  him,  "Are  you  mad? 
you,  that  have  so  long  lived  in  Zetland,  to  risk  the  saving  of  a 
drowning  man?  Wot  ye  not,  if  you  bring  him  to  life  again,  he 
will  be  sure  to  do  you  some  capital  injury?  "    Sir  Walter  suggests 

137 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

in  a  note  that  this  inhuman  maxim  was  probably  held  by  the 
islanders  of  the  Orkneys,  as  an  excuse  for  leaving  all  to  perish 
alone  who  were  shipwrecked  upon  their  coasts,  to  the  end  that 
there  might  be  nothing  to  hinder  the  plundering  of  their  goods; 
which  of  course  could  not  well  be  if  any  of  the  owners  survived. 
This  practice,  he  says,  continued  into  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
"  was  with  difficulty  weeded  out  by  the  sedulous  instructions  of 
the  clergy  and  the  rigorous  injunctions  of  the  proprietors." 

Scene  II. 

13.  She  took  the  ring : — Clarke  says  that  "  Viola,  perceiving  that 
Olivia  has  framed  an  excuse  to  blind  her  steward  whom  she 
sends,  and  willing  to  aid  her  in  screening  herself,  accepts  the  ver- 
sion given  of  the  ring's  having  been  sent  from  Orsino  to  the 
Countess ;  which,  moreover,  affords  a  ready  and  plausible  motive 
for  refusing  to  take  it  now  herself." 

21.  her  eyes  had  lost  her  tongue : — That  is,  says  Hudson,  "  her 
eyes  were  so  charmed  that  she  lost  the  right  use  of  her  tongue, 
and  let  it  run  as  if  it  were  divided  from  her  judgement." 

Scene  III. 

10-12.  the  four  elements,  etc. : — In  ridicule  of  the  medical  theory 
of  that  time,  which  supposed  health  to  consist  in  the  just  tempera- 
ment of  the  four  elements  in  the  human  frame.  Homer  agrees 
with  Sir  Andrew: — 

"  Strength  consists  in  spirits  and  in  blood, 
And  those  are  ow'd  to  generous  wine  and  food." 

52.  Szvect  and  tzventy  appears  to  have  been  an  ancient  term  of 
endearment. 

58.  make  the  welkin  dance: — That  is,  drink  till  the  sky  seems 
to  turn  round. 

59,  60,  draw  three  souls,  etc. : — Shakespeare  represents  weavers 
much  given  to  harmony  in  his  time.  Sir  Toby  meant  that  the 
catch  should  be  so  harmonious  that  it  would  hale  the  soul  out  of 
a  weaver  thrice  over,  a  tumid  way  of  saying  that  it  would  give  this 
warm  lover  of  song  thrice  more  delight  than  it  would  give  another 
man.  Warburton  deemed  this  passage  an  allusion  to  the  three 
souls  of  the  Peripatetic  philosophy.     This  inspired  Coleridge  to 

138 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

remark:  "O  genuine  and  inimitable  (at  least  I  hope  so)  War- 
burton  !  This  note  of  thine,  if  but  one  in  five  millions,  would  be 
half  a.  one  too  much." 

86.  O,  the  twelfth  day,  etc. : — With  Sir  Toby  as  wine  goes  in 
music  comes  out,  and  fresh  songs  keep  bubbling  up  in  his  memory 
as  he  waxes  mellower.  A  similar  thing  occurs  in  2  Henry  IV., 
where  Master  Silence  grows  merry  and  musical  amidst  his  cups 
in  "the  sweet  of  the  night."  Of  the  ballads  referred  to  by 
Sir  Toby,  O,  tJic  tzvelfth  day  of  December  is  entirely  lost.  Percy 
has  one  stanza  of  There  dwelt  a  man  in  Babylon,  which  he  de- 
scribes as  "  a  poor  dull  performance,  and  very  long."  Three  merry 
men  be  we  seems  to  have  been  the  burden  of  several  old  songs, 
one  of  which  was  called  Robin  Hood  and  the  Tanner.  Peg-a- 
Ramsay,  or  Peggy  Ramsay,  was  an  old  popular  tune  which  had 
several  ballads  fitted  to  it.  Thou  knave  was  a  catch  which,  says 
Sir  John  Hawkins,  "  appears  to  be  so  contrived  that  each  of  the 
singers  calls  the  other  knave  in  turn." 

Scene  IV. 

r 

26-39.  What  kind  of  woman,  etc. : — In  common  with  others, 
Brandes  sees  in  this  passage  a  revelation  of  the  Poet's  unhappiness 
consequent  upon  his  own  marriage.  Says  Brandes :  "  Ordinary 
knowledge  of  the  world  is  sufficient  to  suggest  that  his  association 
with  a  village  girl  eight  years  older  than  himself  could  not  satisfy 
him  or  fill  his  life.  The  study  of  his  works  confirms  this  con- 
jecture. It  would,  of  course,  be  unreasonable  to  attribute  con- 
scious and  deliberate  autobiographical  import  to  speeches  torn 
from  their  context  in  different  plays ;  but  there  are  none  the  less 
several  passages  in  his  dramas  which  may  fairly  be  taken  as  indi- 
cating that  he  regarded  his  marriage  in  the  light  of  a  youthful 
folly."  Whereupon  Brandes  quotes  this  passage.  And  Elze, 
agreeing  with  this  view,  asks :  "  Is  it  possible  not  to  recognize 
this  to  be  the  Poet's  grief  at  his  own  unfortunate  marriage?" 
He  adds :  "  It  is  obviously  wisdom  that  has  sprung  from  sorrow." 
Mabie,  however,  like  Halliwell  and  others,  views  the  matter  differ- 
ently. "  The  tradition  that  he  was  an  unhappy  husband  is  based 
entirely  on  the  assumption  that,  while  his  family  remained  in 
Stratford,  for  twelve  years  he  was  almost  continuously  absent  in 
London,  and  that  he  seems  to  speak  with  deep  feeling  about  the 
disastrous  effects  of  too  great  intimacy  before  marriage,  and  of 
the  importance  of  a  woman's  marrying  a  man  older  than  herself. 

139 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

This  is,  however,"  continues  Mabie,  "  pure  inference,  and  it  is 
perilous  to  draw  inferences  of  this  kind  from  phrases  which  a 
dramatist  puts  into  the  mouths  of  men  and  women  who  are  inter- 
preting, not  their  author's  convictions  and  feelings,  but  a  phase  of 
character,  a  profound  human  experience,  or  the  play  of  that  irony 
which  every  playwright  from  .^schylus  to  Ibsen  has  felt  deeply. 
The  dramatist  reveals  his  personality  as  distinctly  as  does  the 
lyric  poet,  but  not  in  the  same  way.  Shakespeare's  view  of  life, 
his  conception  of  human  destiny,  his  attitude  toward  society,  his 
ideals  of  character,  are  to  be  found,  not  in  detached  passages 
framed  and  coloured  by  dramatic  necessities,  but  in  the  large 
and  consistent  conception  of  life  which  underlies  the  entire  body 
of  his  work." 

Scene  V. 

^2.  Saying,  etc.: — "  Malvolio  the  count,"  says  Lloyd,  "promises 
unbecoming  reminiscence  of  Malvolio  the  steward;  and  Olivia, 
'left  in  a  day-bed  sleeping,'  is  forgotten  for  the  enjoyment  of  the 
branched  gown,  the  state,  the  rich  jewel,  and  the  opportunity  of 
being  surly  with  servants,  and  snubbing  his  old  enemy,  and  now 
his  kinsman,  Toby." 

82.  'One  Sir  Andrciv': — It  may  be  worthy  of  remark  that  the 
leading  ideas  of  Malvolio,  in  his  humour  of  state,  bear  a  strong 
resemblance  to  those  of  Alnaschar  in  The  Arabian  Nights.  Some 
of  the  expressions  too  are  very  similar.  Many  Arabian  fictions 
had  found  their  way  into  obscure  Latin  and  French  books,  and 
from  thence  into  English  ones,  long  before  any  version  of  The 
Arabian  Nights  had  appeared.  In  The  Dialogues  of  Creatures 
Moralized,  printed  early  in  the  sixteenth  century,  a  story  similar 
to  that  of  Alnaschar  is  related. 

161.  The  Fortunate-Unhappy. — Maria's  quaint  stratagem  of  the 
letter  is  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  disclosing  to  others  what 
her  keener  sagacity  has  discovered  long  before;  and  its  working 
lifts  her  into  a  model  of  arch  roguish  mischievousness,  with  wit 
to  plan  and  art  to  execute  whatsoever  falls  within  the  scope  of 
such  a  character.  The  scenes  where  the  waggish  troop,  headed 
by  this  "  noble  gull-catcher  "  and  "  most  excellent  devil  of  wit," 
bewitch  Malvolio  into  "  a  contemplative  idiot."  practising  upon  his 
vanity  and  conceit  until  he  seems  ready  to  burst  with  an  ecstasy 
of  self-consequence,  and  they  "  laugh  themselves  into  stitches  " 
over  him,  are  almost  painfully  diverting.     At  length,  however,  our 

140 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

merriment  at  seeing  him  "  jet  under  his  advanced  plumes  "  passes 
into  pity  for  his  sufferings,  and  we  feel  a  degree  of  resentment 
towards  his  ingenious  persecutors.  Doubtless  the  Poet  meant  to 
push  the  joke  upon  him  so  far  as  to  throw  our  feelings  over  on 
his  side,  and  make  us  take  his  part.  For  his  character  is  such 
that  perhaps  nothing  but  excessive  reprisals  on  his  vanity  could 
make  us  do  justice  to  his  real  worth. 


ACT  THIRD. 
Scene  I. 

23,24.  words  are  very  rascals  since  bonds  disgraced  them: — 
This  is  believed  to  be  an  allusion  to  the  order  of  the  Privy  Council 
in  June,  1600,  laying  ver}'  severe  restrictions  upon  stage  perform- 
ances. After  prescribing  "  that  there  shall  be  about  the  city  two 
houses  and  no  more,  allowed  to  serve  for  the  use  of  common 
stage  plays ;  of  the  which  houses,  one  shall  be  in  Surrey,  in  the 
place  commonly  called  The  Bankside,  or  thereabouts,  and  the  other 
in  Middlesex,"  the  order  runs  thus :  "  Forasmuch  as  these  stage 
plays,  by  the  multitude  of  houses  and  company  of  players,  have 
been  so  frequent,  not  serving  for  recreation,  but  inviting  and  call- 
ing the  people  daily  from  their  trade  and  work  to  misspend  their 
time ;  it  is  likewise  ordered,  that  the  two  several  companies  of 
players,  assigned  unto  the  two  houses  allowed,  may  play  each  of 
them  in  their  several  houses  twice  a  week,  and  no  oftener :  and 
especially  they  shall  refrain  to  play  on  the  Sabbath  day,  upon  pain 
of  imprisonment  and  further  penalty.  And  they  shall  forbear 
altogether  in  the  time  of  Lent,  and  likewise  at  such  time  and 
times  as  any  extraordinary  sickness,  or  infection  of  disease,  shall 
appear  to  be  in  or  about  the  city."  This,  of  course,  was  little 
short  of  entire  suppression  of  the  playhouses.  Words  were  dis- 
graced by  bonds  inasmuch  as  imprisonment  was  the  penalty  for 
violation  of  the  order. 

Scene  II. 

46.  if  thou  thou'st  him: — This  has  been  generally  thought  an 
allusion  to  Coke's  impudent  and  abusive  thouing  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  at  his  trial ;  but  the  play  was  acted  a  year  and  a  half  be- 
fore that  trial  took  place.     And  indeed  it  had  been  no  insult  to 

141 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

thou  Sir  Walter,  unless  there  were  some  preexisting  custom  or 
sentiment  to  make  it  so.  What  that  custom  was  may  be  seen  by 
the  following  passage  from  The  Rule  of  St.  Bridget:  "None  of 
hyghenesse  schal  thou  another  in  spekynge,  but  eche  schal  speke 
reverently  to  other,  the  younger  namely  to  the  elder."  One  of 
the  authors  of  Guesses  at  Truth  has  a  very  learned  and  ingen- 
ious essay  on  the  subject,  wherein  he  quotes  the  following  from 
a  book  published  in  1661,  by  George  Fox  the  Quaker :  "  For  this 
thou  and  thee  was  a  sore  cut  to  proud  flesh,  and  them  that  sought 
self-honour ;  who,  though  they  would  say  it  to  God  and  Christ, 
would  not  endure  to  have  it  said  to  themselves.  So  that  we  were 
often  beaten  and  abused,  and  sometimes  in  danger  of  our  lives, 
for  using  those  words  to  some  proud  men,  who  would  say,  What, 
you  ill-bred  clown,  do  you  thou  me !  " 

Scene  HI. 

[Enter  Sebastian  and  Antonio.]  We  find  the  twin-brother 
Sebastian  to  have  conciliated  as  unconsciously  as  effectually  the 
affectionate  friendship  of  the  generous  nature  of  Antonio.  This 
Scene  interests  us  in  Sebastian  on  his  own  account,  but  even 
more  by  indicating  the  sympathy  of  his  nature  with  that  of 
Viola — it  prepares  us  to  witness  and  take  pleasure  in  his  acci- 
dental succession  to  her  favour  with  Olivia. 

Scene  IV. 

59.  midsummer  madness : — "  'Tis  midsummer  moon  with  you  " 
was  a  proverbial  phrase,  signifying  you  are  mad.  It  was  an  an- 
cient opinion  that  hot  weather  affected  the  brain. 

254.  on  carpet  consideration : — The  meaning  of  this  may  be 
gathered  from  Randle  Holme.  Speaking  of  a  certain  class  of 
knights,  he  says,  "  They  are  termed  simply  knights  of  the  carpet, 
or  knights  of  the  green  cloth,  to  distinguish  them  from  knights 
that  are  dubbed  as  soldiers  in  the  field;  though  in  these  days  they 
are  created  or  dubbed  with  the  like  ceremony  as  the  others  are, 
by  the  stroke  of  a  naked  sword  upon  the  shoulder." 

397.  so  do  not  I: — That  is,  "I  do  not  yet  believe  myself,  when 
from  this  accident  I  gather  hope  of  my  brother's  life." 


142 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

ACT   FOURTH. 

Scene  L 

20.  There 's  money  for  thee  : — Lloyd  notes  this  parallel :  "  Viola 
in  the  first  Scene,  her  shipwreck  notwithstanding,  and  from 
funds  which  we  do  not  impeach  poetical  omnipotence  by  inquiring 
into,  pays  the  Captain  bounteously  for  cheering  hopes,  '  for  saying 
so  there  's  gold.'  The  incident  has  its  use  in  removing  from  her 
from  the  first  the  unpleasant  associations  of  necessity,  and  leaving 
us  at  ease  in  the  freedom  of  her  actions  and  inclinations ;  but  it 
also  enables  us  to  recognize  in  the  '  open  hand '  of  Sebastian, 
when  he  gives  money  to  the  troublesome  Clown,  the  expression 
of  twin  disposition  with  his  sister." 

Scene  H. 

24,25.  Malvolio  the  lunatic. — "The  Malvolio  of  the  madhouse," 
says  Herford,  "  is  a  figure  some  degrees  less  comic  than  the  Mal- 
volio of  the  garden-scene,  and  his  indignant  yet  tempered  protest, 
when  released,  insensibly  excites  in  the  modern  reader  a  sympathy 
which  removes  him  for  the  moment  from  the  region  of  comedy 
altogether." 

61.  woodcock : — The  Clown  mentions  a  woodcock,  because  it 
was  proverbial  as  a  foolish  bird,  and  therefore  a  proper  ancestor 
for  a  man  out  of  his  wits. 

98.  the  minister  is  here: — The  Clown,  in  the  dark,  acts  two 
persons,  and  counterfeits,  by  variation  of  voice,  a  dialogue  between 
himself  and  Sir  Topas ;  the  preceding  part  of  this  speech  being 
spoken  as  Clown,  the  following  as  Priest. 

128.  vice  : — The  vice  was  the  fool  of  the  old  moralities.  He  was 
grotesquely  dressed  in  a  cap  with  ass's  ears,  and  a  long  coat,  and 
carried  a  dagger  or  lath.  One  of  his  chief  employments  was  to 
make  sport  with  the  devil,  leaping  on  his  back  and  belabouring 
him  with  his  dagger,  till  he  made  him  roar.  The  devil,  however, 
always  carried  him  ofif  in  the  end.  The  moral  was,  that  sin,  which 
has  the  courage  to  make  very  merry  with  the  devil,  and  is  allowed 
by  him  to  take  very  great  liberties,  must  finally  become  his  prey. 
The  lines  which  close  this  Scene  are  probably  a  part  of  some  well- 
known  old  comic  song,  resounding  the  exploits  of  that  ancient 
theatrical  personification,  the  vice. 

143 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Scene  III. 

I.  Hudson  thus  continues  his  "  abstract "  of  Barnaby  Rich : 
"  Meanwhile  Silla's  brother,  the  right  Silvio  indeed,  had  returned 
home  to  Cyprus ;  and  was  much  grieved  to  find  her  missing,  whom 
he  loved  the  more  tenderly  for  that,  besides  being  his  own  sister, 
she  was  so  like  him  in  person  and  feature  that  no  one  could  dis- 
tinguish them,  save  by  their  apparel.  Learning  how  she  had  dis- 
appeared, and  supposing  that  Pedro  had  seduced  and  stolen  her 
away,  he  vowed  to  his  father  that  he  would  not  only  seek  out  his 
sister,  but  take  revenge  on  the  servant.  In  this  mind  he  departed, 
and,  after  seeking  through  many  towns  and  cities  in  vain,  arrived 
at  Constantinople.  One  evening,  as  he  was  walking  for  recreation 
on  a  pleasant  green  without  the  walls  of  the  city,  he  chanced  to 
meet  the  lady  Julina,  who  had  also  gone  forth  to  take  the  air. 
Casting  her  eyes  upon  Silvio,  and  thinking  him  to  be  the  messen- 
ger that  had  so  often  done  enchantment  upon  her,  she  drew  him 
aside,  and  soon  courted  him  into  a  successful  courtship  of  herself. 
Of  course  she  was  not  long  in  getting  tied  up  beyond  the  Duke's 
hope." 

ACT  FIFTH. 
Scene  I. 

20.  conclusions  to  be  as  kisses: — Warburton  thought  this  should 
read,  "  conclusion  to  be  asked,  is " ;  upon  which  Coleridge  re- 
marks :  "  Surely  Warburton  could  never  have  wooed  by  kisses 
and  won,  or  he  would  not  have  flounder-flatted  so  just  and  humor- 
ous, nor  less  pleasing  than  humorous,  an  image  into  so  profound 
a  nihility.  In  the  name  of  love  and  wonder,  do  not  four  kisses 
make  a  double  affirmative?  The  humour  lies  in  the  whispered 
*  No !  '  and  the  inviting  '  Don't !  '  with  which  the  maiden's  kisses 
are  accompanied,  and  thence  compared  to  negatives,  which  by 
repetition  constitute  an  affirmative." 

158.  interchangement  of  your  rings: — In  ancient  espousals  the 
man  received  as  well  as  gave  a  ring. 

164.  on  thy  case? — The  skin  of  a  fox  or  rabbit  was  often  called 
its  case.  So  in  Cary's  Present  State  of  England,  1626:  "Queen 
Elizabeth  asked  a  knight,  named  Young,  how  he  liked  a  company 
of  brave  ladies.  He  answered,  As  I  like  my  silver-haired  conies 
at  home :  the  cases  are  far  better  than  the  bodies." 

144 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Notes 

269-272.  And  all  those  sayings,  etc.: — It  is  observable  that  the 
Poet  has  left  it  uncertain  whether  Viola  was  in  love  with  the  Duke 
before  the  assumption  of  her  disguise,  or  whether  her  heart  was 
won  afterwards  by  reading  "  the  book  even  of  his  secret  soul  " 
while  wooing  another.  Nor  does  it  much  matter  whether  her 
passion  were  one  of  the  motives,  or  one  of  the  consequences,  of 
her  disguise,  since  in  either  case  such  a  man  as  Olivia  describes 
him  to  be  might  well  find  his  way  to  tougher  hearts  than  hers. 
But  her  love  has  none  of  the  skittishness  and  unrest  which  mark 
the  Duke's  passion  for  Olivia ;  complicated  out  of  all  the  elements 
of  her  richly-gifted,  sweetly-tempered  nature,  it  is  strong  without 
violence ;  never  mars  the  innate  modesty  of  her  character ;  is  deep 
as  life,  tender  as  infancy,  pure,  peaceful,  and  unchangeable  as 
truth. 

326.  Your  master's  mistress  : — Hudson  concludes  his  "  abstract  " 
of  Barnaby  Rich :  "  The  appearance  of  Silla's  brother  forthwith 
brings  about  a  full  disclosure  what  and  who  she  is;  whereupon  the 
Duke,  seeing  the  lady  widow  now  quite  beyond  his  reach,  and 
learning  what  precious  riches  are  already  his  in  the  form  of  a 
serving-man,  transfers  his  heart  to  Silla,  and  takes  her  to  his 
bosom." 

362.  Maria  writ  the  letter,  etc. : — "  Now  Maria  writ  the  letter," 
says  Daniel,  "  at  the  '  importance '  of  her  own  love  of  mischief ; 
the  plot  originated  entirely  with  her,  though  Sir  Toby  and  the 
rest  eagerly  joined  in  it.  And  when  could  Sir  Toby  have  found 
time  for  the  marriage  ceremony  on  this  morning  which  has 
been  so  fully  occupied  by  the  plots  on  Malvolio  and  Sir  Andrew 
Aguecheek?  It  could  not  have  been  since  he  last  left  the  stage, 
for  he  was  then  drunk  and  wounded,  and  sent  off  to  bed  to  have 
his  hurts  looked  to." 

389-408.  When  that  I,  etc. : — "  It  is  to  be  regretted,  perhaps," 
says  Staunton,  "  that  this  '  nonsensical  ditty, '  as  Steevens  terms 
it,  has  not  long  since  been  degraded  to  the  foot-notes.  It  was 
evidently  one  of  those  jigs  with  which  it  was  the  rude  custom  of 
the  Clown  to  gratify  the  groundlings  upon  the  conclusion  of  a 
play.  These  absurd  compositions,  intended  only  as  a  vehicle  for 
buffoonery,  were  usually  improvisations  of  the  singer,  tagged  to 
some  popular  ballad-burden,  or  the  first  lines  of  various  songs 
strung  together  in  ludicrous  juxtaposition,  at  the  end  of  each  of 
which  the  performer  indulged  in  hideous  grimace  and  a  gro- 
tesque sort  of  '  Jump  Jim  Crow  '  dance."  Weiss,  however,  finds 
it  somewhat  of  more  significance :  "  When  the  play  is  over,  the 

145 


Notes  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

Duke  plighted  to  his  page,  Olivia  rightly  married  to  the  wrong 
man,  and  the  whole  romantic  ravel  of  sentiment  begins  to  be 
attached  to  the  serious  conditions  of  life,  Feste  is  left  alone  upon 
the  stage.  Then  he  sings  a  song  which  conveys  to  us  his  feeling 
of  the  world's  impartiality :  all  things  proceed  according  to  law ; 
nobody  is  humoured ;  people  must  abide  the  consequences  of  their 
actions,  '  for  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day.'  A  '  little  tiny  boy ' 
may  have  his  toy;  but  a  man  must  guard  against  knavery  and 
thieving:  marriage  itself  cannot  be  sweetened  by  swaggering; 
whoso  drinks  with  '  toss-pots '  will  get  a  '  drunken  head ' :  it  is 
a  very  old  world,  and  began  so  long  ago  that  no  change  in  its 
habits  can  be  looked  for.  The  grave  insinuation  of  this  song  is 
touched  with  the  vague,  soft  bloom  of  the  play.  As  the  noises  of 
the  land  come  over  sea  well-tempered  to  the  ears  of  islanders,  so 
the  world's  fierce,  implacable  roar  reaches  us  in  the  song,  sifted 
through  an  air  that  hangs  full  of  the  Duke's  dreams,  of  Viola's 
pensive  love,  of  the  hours  which  music  flattered.  The  note  is 
hardly  more  presageful  than  the  cricket's  stir  in  the  late  silence  of 
a  summer.  How  gracious  hath  Shakespeare  been  to  mankind  in 
this  play !  He  could  not  do  otherwise  than  leave  Feste  all  alone 
to  pronounce  its  benediction  ;  for  his  heart  was  a  nest  of  songs 
whence  they  rose  to  whistle  with  the  air  of  wisdom.  Alas  for  the 
poor  fool  in  Lear  who  sang  to  drown  the  cries  from  a  violated 
nest ! " 


'■46 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL 


Questions  on  Twelfth   Night 


1.  What  position  in  the  time-scheme  of  Shakespeare's  comedies 
does  this  one  occupy? 

2.  Give  the  meaning  of  the  play. 

3.  What  characters  of  this  play  and  what  parts  of  the  action 
were  original  with  Shakespeare? 

4.  What  resemblances  in  parts  does  this  comedy  bear  to  earlier 
ones  of  Shakespeare? 

ACT  FIRST. 

5.  In  what  way  does  the  opening  passage  indicate  the  theme 
and  the  atmosphere  of  the  play? 

6.  Indicate  your  impression  of  the  Duke,  derived  from  his 
opening  speech.  In  what  sense  does  Shakespeare  here  and  else- 
where use  the  word  fancy? 

7.  To  what  kind  of  a  life  had  Olivia  devoted  herself  previous  to 
the  opening  of  the  play? 

8.  Is  such  word-play  as  Illyria-Elysium  common  in  Shake- 
speare? 

9.  How  is  Sebastian  introduced  into  the  play,  and  what  feeling 
is  conveyed  as  to  his  fate?  What  is  indicated  by  the  degree  of 
attention  given  to  him? 

10.  What  two  facts  does  Viola  furnish  about  Orsino?  How  do 
these  facts  assist  the  moral  credibility  of  the  plot? 

11.  What  design  has  Viola  evidently  formed  as  indicated  in  Sc. 
ii.  42  et  seq.l 

12.  Does  the  question  of  means  of  maintenance  enter  into 
Viola's  thought  of  her  future? 

13.  Do  Sir  Toby  and  Maria  declare  themselves  as  lovers  in 
Sc.  iii.?  How  is  Sir  Andrew's  part  in  the  action  made  clear  to 
the  spectator? 

14.  What  mental  qualities  does  Sir  Andrew  exhibit  in  his  scene 
with  Sir  Toby  and  Maria? 

147 


Questions  TWELFTH  NIGHT; 

15.  Why  did  the  Duke  not  woo  for  himself?  What  directions 
concerning  her  mission  does  he  give  Viola? 

16.  What  manner  of  life  does  the  Duke  affect? 

17.  Interpret  (Sc.  v.)  God  give  them  wisdom  that  have  it;  and 
those  that  are  fools,  let  them  use  their  talents. 

18.  In  what  danger  of  his  position  does  the  Clown  stand  at  the 
opening  of  the  comedy?  How  does  he  reestablish  himself  in 
Olivia's  favour?    What  is  his  comment  on  her  mourning? 

19.  What  is  Malvolio's  opinion  of  Feste?  Account  for  his 
spleen. 

20.  How  does  Olivia  retort  upon  Malvolio? 

21.  What  parleying  occurs  before  Viola  is  introduced  to  Olivia? 
How  was  the  scene  between  Olivia  and  Sir  Toby  foreshadowed? 

22.  Consider  Malvolio's  way  of  reporting  the  persistence  of  the 
Duke's  messenger  in  the  light  of  his  opinion  of  professional  fools. 
Does  he  here  make  himself  one  of  the  fools'  sanie si 

23.  What  touch  of  humour  does  Viola  give  to  her  reply  when 
asked  if  she  is  a  comedian? 

24.  In  her  interview  with  Olivia,  how  does  Viola  in  effect  say 
all  that  the  Duke  would  have  her  say,  and  yet  avoid  the  banality 
of  repeating  his  love-speech? 

25.  Compare  the  situations  in  Twelfth  Night  and  As  You  Like 
It  of  a  woman  falling  in  love  with  a  disguised  woman ;  from  the 
point  of  view  of  Olivia  and  Phebe  what  was  there  in  the  situation 
to  interest  Shakespeare? 

26.  Review  the  causes  for  the  action  that  the  first  Act  has  laid 
down. 

ACT  SECOND. 

27.  What  element  of  the  plot  was  not  introduced  in  the  first 
Act? 

28.  What  tribute  to  Viola  does  Sebastian  offer  that  would 
disprove  any  possible  theory  that  Viola  used  artifice  in  attracting 
Olivia's  attention,  and  thus  assisting  her  own  case  with  the  Duke? 

29.  Explain  the  friendship  of  Antonio  and  Sebastian. 

30.  How  does  Viola  discover  that  Olivia  has  fallen  in  love  with 
her?  In  her  review  of  the  facts  what  conclusion  does  she  reach? 
Imagine  Helena  so  placed;  how  would  she  have  decided? 

31.  Compare  Sir  Andrew's  and  Malvolio's  attitude  towards  the 
Clown.  What  traits  are  put  to  Sir  Andrew's  advantage?  How 
does  Sir  Andrew  compare  his  own  and  Sir  Toby's  fooling? 

148 


OR.  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Questions 

S2.  In  selecting  the  song  for  the  Clown  to  sing,  why  was  the 
choice  made  of  a  love-song? 

33.  How  is  the  antagonism  of  Malvolio  foreshadowed?  How 
is  Malvolio's  lack  of  imagination  indicated  by  Sir  Toby? 

34.  Was  Malvolio  a  Puritan?  What  was  the  reason  for  Maria's 
special  animus  against  him? 

35.  What  attitude  as  lovers  do  the  men  of  the  under  plot  take 
in  common? 

36.  What  conviction  does  the  Duke  hold  of  his  own  constancy? 
How  does  Feste  comment  on  the  fact  of  it  later? 

37.  What  is  the  Duke's  comment  on  marriage?  How  has  it 
been  interpreted  as  a  personal  confession  of  the  Poet?  In  holding 
the  view  that  Shakespeare  embodied  a  personal  opinion,  is  there 
any  antagonism  to  the  canon  of  dramatic  art  that  demands  ob- 
jectivity? 

38.  Does  the  situation  and  veiled  confession  of  Viola  controvert 
the  assertion  of  Orsino  (iv.  95  et  seq.)  as  to  woman's  love? 

39.  Is  there  a  noticeable  increase  in  intensity  of  passion  in  the 
Duke  as  he  dismisses  Viola  on  the  second  quest? 

40.  Why  is  Fabian  made  the  third  auditor,  instead  of  the  fool, 
as  Maria  had  promised?  What  grievance  had  Fabian  against 
Malvolio? 

41.  How  does  this  scene  resemble  the  one  in  All's  Well  that 
Ends  Well  when  Parolles  is  put  to  his  questions? 

42.  What  are  Malvolio's  ambitions?  What  had  evidently  been 
Olivia's  attitude  towards  him  previously? 

43.  Who  of  the  listeners  takes  the  most  unalloyed  joy  in  the 
absurd  exhibition  of  Malvolio?  Is  there  any  purpose  in  bringing 
one  in  to  see  the  thing  from  the  motive  of  pure  love  of  fun? 

44.  What  quality  does  Malvolio  chiefly  lack?  Where  is  this 
shown  ironically  ? 

ACT  THIRD. 

45.  What  are  Viola's  comments  on  the  office  of  the  fool?  Does 
the  passage  between  Viola  and  the  Clown  contribute  anything  to 
the  progress  of  the  plot? 

46.  How  is  the  device  of  the  ring  that  Olivia  sent  after  Viola 
disposed  of? 

47.  To  what  artifice  does  Olivia  resort  for  securing  the  con- 
tinued visits  of  Viola?     Contrast  the  intellectual  sincerity  of  the 

149 


Questions  TWELFTH  NIGHT  ; 

two  women,  having  in  view  the  increased  difficulties  of  Viola's 
position. 

48.  What  is  the  reason  of  Sir  Andrew's  discouragement  over 
his  wooing  of  Olivia?  How  is  this  motive  made  to  furnish  one 
of  the  comic  episodes  of  the  play?  How  is  assurance  made  that 
the  episode  will  be  comic  ? 

49.  How  is  postponement  effected  to  bring  on  the  Malvolio  epi- 
sode previously  prepared  for? 

50.  How  is  expectation  as  a  dramatic  effect  wrought  to  a  high 
pitch  ? 

51.  What  is  the  purpose  of  the  stay  in  the  action  that  gives 
place  to  Sc.  iii.  ? 

52.  What  elements  of  this  Scene  contribute  to  the  complication? 

53.  How  is  the  occasion  for  the  duel  between  Viola  and  Sir 
Andrew  provided? 

54.  What  dramatic  necessity  requires  that  the  scene  of  Mal- 
volio's  fatuousness  before  Olivia  be  played  during  the  absence  of 
the  knights? 

55.  What  subtle  analysis  of  Malvolio's  infatuation  does  Sir 
Toby  make?    How  is  the  practical  joke  continued? 

56.  Show  how  the  complication  of  the  drama  is  completed  at 
the  duel  scene.  Without  providential  interference,  could  Viola 
have  extricated  herself  from  the  situation? 

57.  What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  Antonio's  mistake  in  sup- 
posing Viola  to  be  Sebastian? 

58.  What  is  foreshadowed  in  Sir  Andrew's  sudden  revival  of 
valour  ? 

ACT  FOURTH. 

59.  Does  the  Clown  seem  merely  avaricious,  or  is  there  some 
apprehensiveness  and  provision  for  the  future  in  his  thought? 

60.  What  purpose  do  you  see  in  Shakespeare's  not  bringing  the 
fool  into  the  comic  scenes  of  the  third  Act? 

61.  Do  the  mystifications  of  Sebastian  partake  of  the  nature  of 
elements  in  the  resolution? 

62.  Why  does  Feste  dress  the  part  of  the  parson,  since  Malvolio, 
whom  he  is  to  deceive,  is  out  of  sight? 

63.  What  satire  is  intended  in  the  dialogue  between  Malvolio 
and  Feste  disguised  as  Sir  Topas? 

64.  In  what  way  is  the  practical  joke  upon  Malvolio  brought  to 
an  end? 

ISO 


OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL  Questions 

65.  Does  Shakespeare,  in  the  soliloquy  that  Sebastian  utters  in 
Sc.  iii.,  covertly  insinuate  that  love  is  a  kind  of  madness,  even 
though  the  particular  acts  that  bear  such  a  stamp  in  the  eyes  of 
Sebastian  are  understood  by  the  spectators  to  be  within  reason? 
What  interpretation  do  you  put  upon  Sebastian's  readiness  to 
plight  troth  with  Olivia? 

ACT  FIFTH. 

66.  What  is  the  effect  of  the  two  accusations  put  upon  Viola 
by  Antonio  and  by  Olivia,  and  of  her  rejection  by  the  Duke? 

67.  Do  not  Malvolio's  words  in  the  second  Act,  'Tis  but  for- 
tune; all  is  fortune,  furnish  the  key  to  the  resolutions  in  this 
play? 

68.  What  is  effected  by  the  comic  interlude  where  the  two 
knights  appear  with  broken  heads? 

69.  Is  the  scene  of  recognition  convincing,  considering  that  the 
brother  and  sister  had  been  separated  but  three  months? 

70.  Why  is  it  that  the  resolution  of  many  of  Shakespeare's 
comedies  presents  situations  of  little  interest? 

71.  Does  Malvolio  end  his  dramatic  life  without  conversion? 

72.  Comment  on  the  suitability  of  the  concluding  song  to  the 
temper  of  the  play. 

73.  Are  any  of  Shakespeare's  other  masquerading  maidens  in- 
volved in  such  funny  consequential  situations  as  Viola? 

74.  Comment  on  the  sense  of  humour  which  helps  her  out  in 
her  encounters  with  the  women  of  the  play. 

75.  Describe  the  three  kinds  of  lovers  that  beset  Olivia.  Why 
does  Sir  Andrew  never  come  into  audience  with  her? 

76.  Indicate  some  points  of  Sir  Toby's  character.  What  fitness 
was  there  in  the  match  between  him  and  Maria?  Comment  on 
Maria's  intellectual  qualities. 

77.  What  kinship  exists  between  Sir  Andrew,  Shallow,  and 
Slender? 

78.  What  was  Shakespeare's  purpose  in  dividing  the  fun- 
making  function  between  Fabian  and  the  Clown?  What  is  Fa- 
bian's dominant  trait? 

79.  Comment  on  some  of  the  following  points  in  the  Clown's 
character:  his  knowledge  of  the  world  and  insight  into  the  true 
characters  of  those  about  him ;  his  refinement ;  his  love  of  fun ; 

151 


Questions 

his  prudence ;  his  melancholy.    What  of  his  personal  detachment 
from  the  action  of  the  play? 

80.  Malvolio  presents  what  Puritan  qualities  of  the  time?  How- 
is  the  Puritan  prohibition  of  bear-baiting  dealt  with  through  him? 
As  a  lover,  what  makes  him  absurd?  How  near  to  him  do  lovers 
of  the  type  of  Benedick  approach? 

81.  What  view  of  love  and  marriage  is  subsumed  in  this  play? 

82.  Hazlitt,  in  his  essay  on  this  play,  distinguishes  three  kinds 
of  comedy ;  namely,  comedy  of  artificial  life,  comedy  of  senti- 
ment, and  comedy  of  nature.  To  which  of  these  would  you 
assign  Twelfth  Night? 


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